Aggie had returned to her seat, and he was talking with her about Euclid, when she began again; and this time her voice revealed that she was quite in earnest.
"Ye're weel nigh a man noo, Cosmo," she said.

"A body may daur speyk to ye aboot things a body wadna be wullin' to say till a bairn for fear o' frichtin' o' 'im mair nor the bit hert o' 'm cud stan'.

Whan a lad can warstle wi' a pair o' bills, an' get the upper han' o' them, an' gar them du his biddin', he wadna need to tak fricht at--" There she paused.
This preamble was enough in itself--not exactly to bring Cosmo's heart into his mouth, but to send a little more of his blood from his brain to his heart than was altogether welcome there.

His imagination, however, was more eager than apprehensive, and his desire to hear far greater than his dread of the possible disclosure.

Neither would he have turned his back on any terror, though he knew well enough what fear was.