“My father wants to speak to me! You are just sending me a gowk’s errand,” she said to Jock who brought the message.
“It’s no a gowk’s errand. It’s just as true as death,” said Jock. “He’s sent me hissel’.”
“And what can he want to say to me in his own room?” cried Kirsteen.
“He did not tell me what he wanted to say; but I can guess what it is,” said Jock.
“What is it, ye little mischief?” cried Kirsteen. “I have done nothing. I have a conscience void of offence, which is more than you can say.”
Upon this they both gave vent to a burst of laughter loud and long.
“It’s about your auld joe, Kirsteen. It’s about Glendochart,” they cried in concert.
“About Glendochart?--he is just my great friend, but there is no harm in that,” she cried.
“Oh, Kirsteen, just take him, and I’ll come and live with ye,” said Jeanie.
“And I’ll come,” added Jock encouragingly, “whenever we have the play.”
“Take him!” said Kirsteen. She bade them with great dignity to hold their tongues and went to her father’s room with consternation in her breast.
Mr. Douglas was sitting over his newspaper with the air of being very much absorbed in it. It was no less than a London paper, a copy of the _Times_ which Glendochart had brought, which had been sent to him from London with the news of the escape of Boney, news that made Drumcarro wild to think that Jock was but fourteen and could not be sent off at once with such chances of promotion as a new war would bring. He had given the lad a kick with a “Useless monkey! Can ye not grow a little faster;” as Jock had clattered up to bed in his country shoes the previous night. But he was not reading, though he pretended still to be buried in the paper when Kirsteen came in. He took no notice of her till she had been standing for a minute before him repeating, “Did you want me, father?” when he looked up, as if surprised.
“Oh, you’re there. I calculated ye would take an hour to come.”
“Jock said you wanted to speak to me, father.”
“And so I did--but you might have had to put your gown on, or to brush your hair or something--for anything I knew.”
“I never do that at this time of the day.”
“Am I to mind your times of day? Kirsteen, I have something to say to you.”
“Never mind what Jock told ye. It is perhaps the most serious moment of all your life; or I might say it’s the beginning of your life, for with the care that has been taken of ye, keepit from the cold and shadit from the heat, and your meat provided and everything you could require--the like of you doesn’t know what life is as long as ye bide in your father’s house.”