“I can't fasten my bonnet myself,” she said haughtily.

“Not man enough yet,” he said, tying the ribbons under her chin with clumsy fingers.

She held up her face to him. Her little bright-red lips moved as he fumbled under her chin.

“You talk — nonsents,” she said, re-echoing one of his phrases.

“That face shouts for th' pump,” he said, and taking out a big red handkerchief, that smelled of strong tobacco, began wiping round her mouth.

“Is Kitty waiting for me?” she asked.

“Ay,” he said. “Let's finish wiping your face — it'll pass wi' a cat-lick.”