human
Hallo, said Mr. Bethune, when he heard the first low-rippling notes,
gpt
Yes, grandfather, Maisrie replied, rather timidly.
human
Last night, when you were out, some one played.
gpt
Ah, a music-mistress, I dare say. Poor thing—perhaps all alone—and wishing to be friendly in this sort of fashion.
human
Now, Maisrie, it is your turn!
gpt
Oh, no, grandfather!
human
Why not?
gpt
It would be like answering—to a stranger.
human
And are we not all strangers? he said, gently.
gpt
I think it is a very pretty idea, if that is what is meant. We’ll soon see. Come, Maisrie; something more than the plashing of a southern fountain—something with northern fire in it. Why not ’Helen of Kirkconnell’?