“My faither has got a place a week syne that’ll fit John an’ him an’ me.  The three o’ us are a’ goin’ to work thegither.  If he could have gotten yin sooner, I’d hae been doon a month syne.  But he’s aye been waitin’ to get a place that wad suit us a’,” he said, volunteering this information to see if it would loosen her tongue to express the regret he wanted her to speak.

But again Mysie did not answer.  She only hung her head and did not look up with any interest in his news.

“It’s aboot time I was in the pit now, ye ken.  You used to get doon the pit at ten.  My faither was in it when he was nine, but you’re no’ allowed to gang doon now till you are twelve year auld.  I’m going to draw aff my faither and John,” and he was feeling more and more exasperated at her continued silence.

Yet still Mysie did not speak, and merely nodded to this further enlightenment.

“I’ve never telt onybody except yoursel’,” he said, hurt at her seeming want of interest, and feeling that what he was going to say was less manly than he intended it to be.  Indeed he was aware that it was decidedly childish of him to say it, but, like many wiser and older, he could not keep his dignity, and took pleasure in hurting her; for there is a pleasure sometimes in hurting a loved one, because they are loved, and will not speak the things one wants them to say, which if said might add to one’s vanity and sense of importance.  “So ye’ll just be by yoursel’ the morn, unless they put Dicky Tamson owre aside you,” he added viciously.

“I dinna want Dicky Tamson aside me,” she said with some heat, and a hint of anxiety in her voice, which pleased him a little.  “He’s an impudent thing,” and again she relapsed into silence, just when he thought his pleasure was going to be complete.

“Oh, they’ll maybe put Aggie Lowrieson on your side o’ the table,” he volunteered, glad that at last she had shown some feeling.

“They can keep Aggie Lowrieson too,” she said shortly.  “I dinna’ want her.  I’ll get on fine mysel’,” and she said no more.

He talked of his new venture all the way home, and he felt more and more hurt because she did not reply as eagerly and volubly as he wished.

“It’ll be great goin’ doon the pit,” he said, again feeling that he was going to be priggish.  “Pickin’ stanes is a’ guid enough for a laddie for a wee while, an’ for women, but you’re the better to gang into the pit when you’re the age.  You get mair money for it.  Of course, it’s hard work, but I’ll be earnin’ as much as twa shillin’s a day in the pit, and that’ll be twelve shillin’s a week.”

But Mysie could not be drawn to look at his rosy prospects, and still kept silent, so that the last few hundred yards were covered in silence.  At the end of the row where they always parted, he could not resist adding a thrust to his usual “good-night.”

“Guid nicht then, Mysie.  I thocht may be ye’d be vexed, seem’ that Dickie Tamson can torment you as muckle as he likes now.”  And so he went home feeling that Mysie didn’t care much.