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Updated: May 2, 2025
Ballantree MacDonald," the detestable girl went on, pushing into the room without asking permission. "She's going to 'open, as the paper expresses it, in a new play called 'The Nelly Affair, on Monday night at the Lyceum Theatre. Next Monday! Nearly a week from now! How can I wait what shall I do till then?" It was to Somerled that she appealed.
He did not know which of her two smiles had less genuine human nature in it, the sad one or the gay one. And he wondered for the first time if Basil didn't write the best part of their books. "I've come in a great hurry on an important mission from Mrs. Ballantree MacDonald to Barrie," she explained to Somerled rather than to the girl, as she got stiffly out of the motor-car.
West would say!" exclaimed Somerled. "This is Miss MacDonald, a daughter of Mrs. Ballantree MacDonald." "Oh!" said Aline. "How interesting! I'm delighted to meet her." She held out her hand, and the girl, who had not yet spoken a word, put hers into it.
"No, she never spoke of it. But look here, Miss MacDonald, as I happen to be an acquaintance I daren't call myself a friend of your mother's, you'd better let me advise you a little, without thinking that I'm taking a liberty. From what you say, I have the idea that you've not had time to write Mrs. Bal I mean, Mrs. Ballantree MacDonald that you're coming to pay her a visit."
Bal exclaim, "Oh, by the way, if she's to be my sister, she can't be a MacDonald, She'll have to take the name of Ballantree. It was my maiden name, you know." A disagreeable surprise awaited me outside. I learned that, while we'd been out after luncheon, my sister and the Vannecks had come, but that Aline had had a mishap.
The way people searched his title, examined his tax receipts and rammed hypodermics into his property without permission was, to say the least, amusing. "Been at it thirty years," replied Ballantree in a tone that settled all doubt on the subject. "It is a low-grade ore, you know," explained Jack, feeling bound to express his own doubts of its value.
"I don't know whom it's from; it is signed T. Ballantree; I never heard of him before. He wants me to meet him at the Astor House to-day at eleven o'clock. Some business of your father's, I expect see, it's dated Morfordsburg. Too bad, isn't it, blessed but I must go.
This was the first time any one had asked that question in the memory of the oldest inhabitant. "Well, that depends on what it is wanted for, Mr. Ballantree," laughed Jack. He had already begun to like the man. "And perhaps, too, on who wants it. Is it for speculation?" Ballantree laughed in return. "No not a square foot of it.
That's why I'm running away, and wild horses couldn't drag me back." "I see. Mrs. Ballantree MacDonald will be taken by surprise when you turn up." "Yes. It will be like things I've dreamed about and invented to make into story-books really interesting story-books such as Grandma wouldn't let me read, for she approves only of Hannah More. Won't mother be delighted?"
If Grandma had seen her then, she could not have helped admitting that there was as much of Robert MacDonald in the lines of the girl's face as of the guileful Barbara Ballantree. No notice was taken of Barrie until half-past eight o'clock that night half-past eight being considered night in Mrs. MacDonald's house-hold.
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