'Wullie!' Macgregor exclaimed, holding out his hand, which the
other ignored.

'I'm rotten, tae,' he went on, bitterly. 'Fine I ken it. But I
never had an equal chance wi' you. I'm no blamin' ye. Ye've aye
shared me what ye had. I treated ye ill aboot the enlistin'. But
I wasna gaun to enlist to please you, nor ma aunt, neither.' He
rose slowly and picked up his shabby jacket. 'But, by ----, I'll
enlist to please masel'!' He held out his hand. 'There it is, if
ye want it, Macgreegor. . . . Ha'e ye a match? Weel, show a
licht. Is ma nose queer-like?'

'Ay,' Macgregor unwillingly replied, and, with inspiration, added
consolingly, 'But it was aye that, Wullie.'




IV

THE RING

'Wha' was chasin' ye?' Christina inquired, as Macgregor came
breathless to the counter, which she was tidying up for the night.

'I was feart I was gaun to be late.' he panted.

'I wud ha'e excused ye under the unique circumstances,' she said
graciously. 'Sit doon an' recover yer puff.'