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McSnagley proceeded to inquire after Sister Morpher. "She is an adornment to Christewanity, and has a likely, growin' young family," added Mr. McSnagley; "and there is that mannerly young gal so well behaved Miss Clytie." In fact, Clytie's perfections seemed to affect him to such an extent that he dwelt for several minutes upon them. The master was doubly embarrassed.
Morpher, without replying to this question, apparently addressed to himself as an adult representative of the wayward species, appeared at the door, and endeavored to pour oil on the troubled waters. "Oh, he's all right, Sue! Don't fuss about him," said Mr. Morpher with an imbecile sense of conveying comfort in the emphasized pronoun. "He's down the gulch, or in the tunnel, or over to the claim.
"Hadn't you better take some one with you?" said Mrs. Morpher. "By all means. I 'll go!" said Mr. McSnagley, with feverish alacrity. The master looked inquiringly at M'liss. "He can go if he wants to, but he'd better not," said M'liss, looking directly into McSnagley's eyes. "What do you mean by that, you little savage?" said McSnagley quickly. M'liss turned scornfully away.
Looking at it, he saw it was still bleeding from the blow, but his fingers were clenched around the handle of a glittering knife. He could not remember when or how he got it. The man who was holding his hand was Mr. Morpher. He hurried the master to the door, but the master held back, and tried to tell him as well as he could with his parched throat about "Mliss."
That was just the way with my John afore he was married. I suppose you'll see M'liss and her before you go. They say that she is going to San Francisco soon. Is it so?" Mr. Gray understands the personal pronoun to refer to Mrs. Smith, a title Mrs. Morpher has never granted M'liss's mother, for whom she entertains an instinctive dislike.
Of the homes that were offered to M'liss when her conversion became known, the master had preferred that of Mrs. Morpher, a womanly and kind-hearted specimen of Southwestern efflorescence, known in her maidenhood as the "Per-ra-rie Rose."
"Oh, you wicked, wicked child why don't you say where, if you know?" said Mrs. Morpher, shaking her, as if the information were to be dislodged from some concealed part of her clothing. "I didn't say I knew for sure," at last responded M'liss. "I said I thought I knew." "Well, where do you think he is?" But M'liss was firm.
Of the homes that were offered Mliss when her conversion became known, the master preferred that of Mrs. Morpher, a womanly and kindhearted specimen of Southwestern efflorescence, known in her maidenhood as the "Per-rairie Rose." Being one of those who contend resolutely against their own natures, Mrs.
The door opened and McSnagley entered. "Why, bless my soul how do you do?" said Mrs. Morpher, with genteel astonishment. "Quite a stranger, I declare." This was a polite fiction. M'liss knew the fact to be that Mrs.
The master in his first estimate of the child's character could not conceive that she had ever possessed a doll. But the master, like many other professed readers of character, was safer in a posteriori than a priori reasoning. Mliss had a doll, but then it was emphatically Mliss's doll a smaller copy of herself. Its unhappy existence had been a secret discovered accidentally by Mrs. Morpher.
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