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Updated: May 29, 2025
There was a hush and a hum after that, and Kate, who had reached from the bed to open the door, clutched it with a feverish grasp. "But Christian Killip is nothing but a trollop, anyway, sir," said Cæsar. "Every cat is black in the night, father the girl's in trouble," said Pete. "No, no!
Cæsar sharpened the carving-knife on the steel, and said, "We've taken the girl Christian Killip back to communion to-day." "Poor thing," said Grannie, "pity she was ever put out of it, though." "Maybe so, maybe no," said Cæsar. "Necessary anyway; one scabby sheep infects the flock." "And has marriage daubed grace on the poor sheep's sore then, Cæsar?" said Pete.
"Why, what bells, mammy?" said Kate, through a mouthful of bread and butter. "The bells for Christian Killip. Her old sweetheart took her to church at last. He wouldn't get rest at your father till he did and her baby two years for Christmas. But what d'ye think, now? Robbie left her at the church door, and he's off by the Ramsey packet for England. Aw, dear, he did, though.
Kate rose to her feet with a startled cry of joy, looked round eagerly, and then sat down again covered with confusion. It was the girl Christian Killip, a pale, weak, frightened creature, with the mouth and eyes of a hare. "Is Mr. Quilliam here?" she asked. "Here's the man himself, Christian," said Grannie. "What do you want with him?"
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