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"I don't think she caught me," was Gavin's reflection, and "The Lord preserves!" was Jean's. Gavin found his mother wondering how one should set about getting a cup of tea in a house that had a servant in it.
Oh, ma'am, you surely dinna think I would take a widow man?" It was the day after Gavin's meeting with the Egyptian at the Kaims, and here is Jean's real reason for wishing to consult Haggart. Half an hour before she hurried to the parlour she had been at the kitchen door wondering whether she should spread out her washing in the garret or risk hanging it in the courtyard.
"Good evening, Christine," said Gavin Grant. "Good night, Gavin," called Christina. She was always just a little bit flustered in Gavin's presence. She was half afraid that he cared for her and just a little bit afraid that he did not care at all. "How is your haying?" she asked pleasantly. "Fine. I finished to-day. And I was just looking if these oats were ready.
For it seemed to me that the hour had come when I must disclose myself to Margaret. I had realised always that if such a necessity did arise it could only be caused by Gavin's premature death, or by his proving a bad son to her.
"Look here, young man, we are too old birds to be caught by any such light chaff as you have about you. You are a pretty church member, you are! You are a smart one, you are; nice boy, just from the country; suppose you do not know that Gavin's Hotel is the worst gambling hole in the city, and every other man that goes there a known thief.
"But it's me that is telling you the story. You are sure you don't know it? Well, they asked father to take the glass away, and he wouldn't; but he once preached at mother for having a white feather in her bonnet, and another time he preached at her for being too fond of him. Jean told me. That's all." No one seeing Babbie going to church demurely on Gavin's arm could guess her history.
He was a lather and had a steady job till sickness came. It was the old story: nothing laid away how could there be, with a houseful of children and nothing coming in. They talk of death-rates to measure the misery of the slum by, but death does not touch the bottom. It ends the misery. Sickness only begins it. It began Gavin's.
And that was some comfort to the homely young person who, with a pail only half full, and without prospect of either wealth or beauty, was wending her way down the green tangle of the berry patch. Somehow the comfort seemed to outweigh the misfortune. Gavin's escape from dire punishment gave her a feeling of exultation that even a pink satin ribbon would fail to produce.
And Auntie Elspie had always laughed at him, saying there was little fear of his ever getting it, for Gavie would never think of anything but the farm. But the night when Gavin's heart was laid bare before her, Auntie Elspie remembered Hughie's oft repeated wish and made a great and noble resolve. She came to her dismaying conclusion concerning Gavin one evening after he had been to town.
She wore no ornament but an old-fashioned brooch of her mother's fastening the throat of her soft blue dress. "I haven't anything," she said helplessly. She followed Gavin's eyes that were fastened on her left hand. "Could you spare me that?" he whispered.
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