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Updated: June 28, 2025
On the plush-bedecked sofa in the corner of the parlour the half- inanimate form of Mrs Macalister swayed helplessly to and fro, while on either side stood two men her husband and George Elgood looking on in helpless, masculine fashion. Her cap had fallen back from her head, her ruddy face was bleached to a livid grey, from her lips came from time to time that pitiful, hopeless wail.
The following evening there came by the last post the statement of his account. He examined his pass-book. He found that when he had paid everything he would have seven pounds left. Seven pounds! He was thankful he had been able to pay. It would have been horrible to be obliged to confess to Macalister that he had not the money.
Next day everything was up a little, and Macalister wrote to say that he had had to pay two and a quarter for the shares. He said that the market was firm. But in a day or two there was a set-back.
"You're not thinking he's to dae wi' the murder, are you!" he cried. "I'm not sure what to think till I've had another look into yon carriage," said the superintendent cautiously. "We're slowing doon the noo!" cried Mr. MacAlister, "God, George, I'll come and hae a look wi' you!" The train was hardly in the platform before the superintendent was out, with Mr.
Macalister told him that Redvers Buller would march into Pretoria in a month and then everything would boom. The only thing was to wait patiently. What they wanted was a British reverse to knock things down a bit, and then it might be worth while buying. Philip began reading assiduously the 'city chat' of his favourite newspaper. He was worried and irritable.
It would be impossible any longer to have nothing to do in the day except to learn rather old-fashioned lessons under the tutorship of Jane Macalister, to contrive to dress out of almost nothing at all, and to listen for ever to Molly's slow talk about ways and means, and the children's chatter over their pets. Nora looked ahead with interest.
"I will give you " the officer began, when Macalister broke in abruptly. "This is no a debatin' society," he said. "But ye'll no walk ye maun just drive." Without further words he thrust the pistol in his pocket, grabbed and took one handful of coat at the back of the officer's neck and another at the skirt, and commenced to thrust him before him across the open ground.
It was here that the episode ended so far as Macalister was concerned, and his relations with the German officer thereafter were of the purely official nature of a prisoner's guard. There were some other indignities, but in these Macalister had no hand.
We at once agreed that it must be the source of the very river we were on, the Macalister, but, as the sequel will show, we found so many streams, that most probably we were mistaken in our judgment.
He met Elinor's full, troubled grey eyes, and seated himself slowly once more in his chair. The steps had come nearer, the schoolroom door was burst open, and Nan Thornton rushed in. "Here I am," she said. "I have come to torment you, Miss Macalister, and to beg off lessons at once. How do you do, children? How are you, Kitty? How are you, Boris? How do you do, Nell?
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