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Updated: May 20, 2025
But she met him in the hall with only her usual languid good humor. Nevertheless, Blair was not abashed. "I can't put you in splints and plaster like Fluffy, Mrs. MacGlowrie," he said, "but I can forbid you to go into the garden unless you're looking better. It's a positive reflection on my professional skill, and Laurel Spring will be shocked, and hold me responsible." Mrs.
"And what mo' would a regularly baptized child have wanted?" returned Mrs. MacGlowrie, with the drawling Southern intonation she fell back upon when most contemptuous. But Dr. Blair's increasing practice and the widow's preoccupation presently ended their brief intimacy.
MacGlowrie crawled back into bed with the remark that his race had always "died with their boots on," and so passed smilingly and tranquilly away. It is probable that this story was invented to soften the ignominy of MacGlowrie's peaceful end. The widow herself was also reported to be endowed with relations of equally homicidal eccentricities.
MacGlowrie, struggling to her feet; "Morvin will look after me till the shakiness goes. But it was mighty touching and neighborly to come in, Doctor," she continued, succeeding at last in bringing up a faint but adorable smile, which stirred Blair's pulses. "If I were my own dog you couldn't have treated me better!"
"Yes hadn't heard o' MacGlowrie's wife and disremembered your brothers." "The colonel doesn't know everybody, even if he is a fighting man," said Mrs. MacGlowrie with languid scorn. "That's just what Dick Blair said," returned Miss Morvin.
MacGlowrie. "Who's they?" responded the housekeeper with more directness than grammatical accuracy. "The people in the dining room. I was just opening the door and I felt this coming on and I reckon I had just sense enough to shut the door again before I went off." "Then that accounts for what Jim Slocum said," uttered Miss Morvin triumphantly.
Riding and the cultivation of her little garden gave her sufficient exercise. And yet the unexpected occurred! The day after Starbottle left, Dr. Blair was summoned hastily to the hotel. Mrs. MacGlowrie had been found lying senseless in a dead faint in the passage outside the dining room.
"You are neither nervous nor old, Mrs. MacGlowrie," said the doctor promptly, "though I begin to think you HAVE been too closely confined here. You want more diversion, or excitement. You might even go to hear this preacher" he stopped, for the word had slipped from his mouth unawares. But a swift look of scorn swept her pale face.
How could a poor, simple doctor aspire to the hand of the rich widow of the redoubtable MacGlowrie? It was late one afternoon, and the low sun was beginning to strike athwart the stark columns and down the long aisles of the redwoods on the High Ridge. The doctor, returning from a patient at the loggers' camp in its depths, had just sighted the smaller groves of Laurel Springs, two miles away.
MacGlowrie had recovered enough of her old spirit to reply that she thought Laurel Spring could be in better business than looking at her over her garden fence. "But your dog, who knows you're not well, and doesn't think me quite a fool, had the good sense to call me. You heard him."
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