I lay on a bank this afternoon smoking. Janet and Jean and Annie came
along the road, and they sat down beside me.
"I'm tired of the school," said Annie wearily; "Aw wish Aw was
fourteen!"
"What's wrong now?" I asked.
"Oh, we never get any fun now, the new mester's always so strict, and we
get an awful lot o' home lessons now."
"Annie got the strap on Friday," explained Jean. "Mester Macdonald's
braces broke Aw think, at least something broke when he was bending doon
and he took an awful red face ... and he had to keep his hands in his
pouches till night time to keep his breeks up."
"Did Annie pull them down?" I asked.
Jean tittered.
"No, but she laughed and he gave her the strap."
"Aye," cried Annie in delight, "and they nearly cam doon when he was
strappin' me!"
"Why do awkward incidents occur to dignity?" I said, more to myself than
to the bairns, "my braces wouldn't break in fifty years of teaching."
Then I laughed.
Margaret Thomson came down the road on her way to Evening Service, and
she reddened as she passed.
"Eh!" laughed Janet, looking up into my face, "did ye see yon? Maggie
blushed! Aw wudna wonder if she has a notion o' the Mester!"
"How could she help it, Jan?" I said. "Why, you'll be hopelessly in love
with me yourself in a couple of years, you besom!"
She stared before her vacantly for a little.
"Aw did have a notion o' you when ye cam first," she said slowly.