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So she slipped up to her and whispered, "Do you like it?" and Mother MacAllister looked rather wistfully at the crimson cheeks and shining eyes. She stroked the little girl's hair gently. "It would be a very pretty little piece, hinny," she said softly. "But you must not be letting yourself get too much excited over it, little Lizzie. It'll make you forget your sums."
Mother MacAllister, who never in her life was known to do such a wicked thing as go visiting on Sunday, left her guest with Charles Stuart and his father, and went all the way over to The Dale to explain Elizabeth's case to Miss Gordon.
Willett saying, "You ought to get some one to come and write about this for your paper, Witherby." But Mrs. Macallister was also saying something, with a significant turn of her floating eyes, and the thing that concerned Bartley, if he were to make his way among the newspapers in Boston, slipped from his grasp like the idea which we try to seize in a dream.
Alexander MacAllister, he says to Andrew Peters, 'Well, and what do you think of Father Chiniquy now? 'Vell, growled Andrew, 'I t'ink de old devil has got a blessing left yet. Laws, how Henry did laugh over that today!" "Do you know who Mr. Ford is, Captain Jim?" asked Anne, seeing that Captain Jim's fountain of reminiscence had run out for the present. "I want you to guess."
Elizabeth knew only too well that those significant glances meant, "We'll run away from her and hide as soon as we're into The Slash." "No, you can't then," she cried triumphantly, just as though they had spoken. "I can beat you at running, Charles Stuart MacAllister." This was a fact Charles Stuart could not contradict.
For while there were eight Gordons, and every one of them fairly nice at times, there was but one single solitary MacAllister, and a boy at that; yes, and sometimes the very nastiest boy that went to Forest Glen School!
She pulled Bartley forward by the hand; her husband followed with the taller Miss Willett; two of the Canadians, at the instance of Mrs. Macallister, came forward and politely asked the honor of the other young ladies' hands in the dance; their temper was infectious, and the cotillon was in full life before their partners had time to wonder at their consent. Mrs.
"They are to be yours when you grow up, you mind, little Lizzie," Mother MacAllister said, as she always did when the story of the blue cups and saucers was finished. Elizabeth sighed rapturously. "Oh, I'd just love them!" she cried, "but I couldn't bear to take them away from here. The cupboard would look so lonesome without them.
And was it possible a right act could bring such dire results? And then Mother MacAllister went, as she always did in times of perplexity, to the story of the One Who had suffered all man's infirmities and knew as no other knew how to sympathize with man's troubles.
"Oh, yes, no doubt of it," answered Mr. MacAllister, "but we think we are on the track of settling the matter now." Tavia felt she could scarcely wait to tell all this to Dorothy, for she had been wondering what had become of the Anderson affair. Alice looked proudly up at her father as they neared the school. "They may think you have come to take someone else away," she said laughing.
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