After that nasty business with Mr. Conner I thought I would never again want anything to do with a man. Now I can’t get the handsome face of Angus Abbott out of my mind. Yesterday he rode past the Still Rom window and waved to me. I didn’t dare wave back, and luckily Martha didn’t see.
Now what am I thinking? If any of the family ever found out he was paying any attention to me I would be sacked, no question. But he only waved at me; I didn’t do anything in return.
Heather and I walked into town again this afternoon. One of the lads hanging about the square caught her eye, and she excused herself to go and have a word with him. I walked over to the large statue and was surprised to find it is of Sir John Sinclair, and the plaque lists his accomplishments –dry-stone walling across Caithness, crop rotation and “the arrival of sheep to replace people”. That one puzzles me. Why should sheep replace people?
When Heather joined me she was blushing. Seems the lad has been watching her for a while now, and asked to see her again, perhaps to take tea with him next Sunday. Well, Heather is certainly old enough to have a beau. She just turned seventeen. I suppose I will be old enough soon, too. I’ll be sixteen in a couple of months. A lot of girls are married and mothers by then.
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