And it is not a bit my putting it, Uncle, but it is just that
you are a dear and--well, a real sport; you love fair play." The girl
suddenly threw her strong, young arms about her uncle's neck, drew him
close to her, and kissed him almost as if she had been his mother.
The little man was deeply touched, but with true Scotch horror of a
demonstration he cried, "Tut, tut, lassie, ye're makin' an auld fule o'
your uncle. Come now, be sensible!"
"Sensible!" echoed his niece, kissing him again. "That's my living
description among all my acquaintance. It is their gentle way of
reminding me that the ordinary feminine graces of sweetness and general
loveliness are denied me."
"And more fools they!" grunted her uncle. "You're worth the hale
caboodle o' them."
That same evening there were others who shared this opinion, and none
more enthusiastically than did Mr. Dunn, whom Miss Brodie chanced to
meet just as she turned out of the Waverly Station.
"Oh, Mr. Dunn," she cried, "how very fortunate!" Her face glowed with
excitement.
"For me; yes, indeed!" said Mr. Dunn, warmly greeting her.
"For me, for young Cameron, for us all," said Miss Brodie. "Oh, Rob, is
that you?" she continued, as her eye fell upon the youngster standing
with cap off waiting her recognition. "Look at this!" she flashed a
letter before Dunn's face.
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