Part 50 (1/2)
”Would he like to come up, think you?”
”Don't ask the man twice if you want him to say no,” said Nancy.
Blus.h.i.+ng and stammering, and trying to straighten his black curls, Pete came at Nancy's call.
Kate had few qualms. The wound she had received from Philip had left her conscienceless towards Pete. Yet she turned her head a little sideways as she welcomed him.
”Are you better, then, Kirry?” said Pete timidly.
”I'm nearly as well as ever,” she answered.
”You are, though?” said Pete. ”Then you'll be down soon, it's like, eh?”
”I hope so, Pete--quite soon.”
”And fit for anything, now--yes?”
”Oh, yes, fit for anything.”
Pete laughed from his heart like a boy. ”I'll take a slieu round to Ballure and tell Philip immadiently.”
”Philip?” said Kate, with a look of inquiry.
”He was saying this morning you wouldn't be equal to it, Kirry.”
”Equal to what, Pete?”
”Getting--going--having--that's to say--well, you know, putting a sight on the parson himself one of these days, that's the fact.” And, to cover his confusion, Pete laughed till the scraas of the roof began to snip.
There was a moment's pause, and then Kate said, with a cough and a stammer and her head aside, ”Is that so _very_ tiring, Pete?”
Pete leapt from his chair and laughed again like a man demented. ”D'ye say so, Kitty? The word then, darling--the word in my ear--as soft as soft----”
He was leaning over the bed, but Kate drew away from him, and Nancy pulled him back, saying, ”Get off with you, you goosey gander! What for should you bother a poor girl to know if sugar's sweet, and if she's willing to change a sweetheart for a husband?”
It was done. One act--nay, half an act; a word--nay, no word at all, but only silence. The daring venture was afoot.
Grannie came up with Kate's dinner that day, kissed her on both cheeks, felt them hot, wagged her head wisely, and whispered, ”I know--you needn't tell _me!_”
XIV.
The last hymn was sung, Caesar came home from chapel, changed back from his best to his work-day clothes, and then there was talking and laughing in the kitchen amid the jingling of plates and the vigorous rattling of knives and forks.
”Phil must be my best man,” said Pete. ”He'll be back to Douglas now, but I'll get you to write me a line, Caesar, and ask him.”
”Do you hold with long engagements, Pete?” said Grannie.
”A week,” said Pete, with the air of a judge; ”not much less anyway--not of a rule, you know.”