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Updated: June 23, 2025
He had opened the door only a little way, expecting that he would have to refuse admittance. At the sound of a woman's voice, his sense of the conventions sprang to life. It must be a good deal past ten and here he was answering Maisie's door as though he were her butler. The kind of conclusions that could be drawn were made plain by the caller's question, "Is it Mr. Easterday?"
Did he intend actually intend to but the caller's hand fell; he sat forward suddenly on the edge of his chair and seemed for the first time aware that his attitude partook of the anomalous; for gathering up his shabby hat from the gorgeous rug, he abruptly rose. Just in time to confront, or be confronted by, an austere lady in stiff satin or brocade and with bristling iron-gray hair!
"Oh, I don't know, my dear," came in agitated tones, "but would you come to the door and speak to me a minute?" There was a bump on the floor as Rodd sprang out of bed, and then "What is it?" whispered the boy, who was moved by his caller's evident distress. "Don't say uncle's ill!" "No, no, my dear, but I am in great trouble. You you didn't shut the front door." "Oh!" ejaculated Rodd.
Anderson repeated the caller's compliment to her son later on when the two were at the supper-table. "Yes, she paid you a great compliment," said she; "but, dear, why did you run out in that way? It was almost rude, and she the minister's wife, too." "I don't see how Dr. Gregg keeps up his necessary quota of saving grace, living with her," said Anderson.
She had begun a hummy little tune to help out, but in the interstices of rattling peas and the verses of the tune she could distinctly hear some of the things Aunt Olivia and the Caller were saying. This was one of the things: "She's offered a reward, but I don't calculate there's much chance she'll ever see it again." A sigh followed. The voice was the Caller's, the sigh Aunt Olivia's.
The next instant both McWade and Stoner sat erect in their chairs, with eyes alert and questioning, for at sight of the stranger Mallow had leaped to his feet with a smothered exclamation, and now stood with his back to the desk and with his head outthrust in a peculiar attitude of strained intensity. "Well, well, Mallow!" The caller's face broke into an engaging smile as he crossed the threshold.
When he laid his grimly-humourous lips to the long tube of birch-bark, which is the "caller's" instrument of illusion, there would come from it a strange sound, great and grotesque, harsh yet appealing, rude yet subtle, and mysterious as if the uncomprehended wilderness had itself found voice.
"You ought to go next Caller's Night, and send in your card, and say you felt you ought to ask if she'd suffered any from the night air. Even if you couldn't manage to say that, you ought to start to say it, anyhow, because you Keep off o' me! I'm only tryin' to do you a good turn, ain't I?" "You save your good turns for yourself," Ramsey growled, still advancing upon him.
Aunt Hannah, why does a baby think that everything, from his own toes to his father's watch fob and the plush balls on a caller's wrist-bag, is made to eat? As if I could sterilize everything, and keep him from getting hold of germs somewhere!" "You'll have to have a germ-proof room for him," laughed Alice Greggory, playfully snapping her fingers at the baby in Aunt Hannah's lap.
What interests me is that ghostly telephone call from a house that burned down, and the caller's knowledge of Number Three. I'm in this case, have no fear of that." Shirley led his guest to the coat room. "I'll get a taxicab, Monty. We'd better see that girl first and then have a look at the body." The Captain turned to the door, as the attendant helped Monty with his overcoat.
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