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If he's been walking about since then he'll be absolutely dead." Dr Macphail told her what had happened and asked her to break the news to Mrs Davidson. "But why did he do it?" she asked, horror-stricken. "I don't know." "But I can't. I can't." "You must." She gave him a frightened look and went out. He heard her go into Mrs Davidson's room.
And the doctor says if you die, he'll have it all searched into, and Miss Caley she look at me as if she suspect me of a hand in it; and they won't let alone till they've got me hanged for it; and it's all along of love of you; and I tell you the truth, Mr MacPhail, and you can do anything with me you like I don't care only you won't let them hang me will you ? Oh, please don't."
She won't be any trouble to you." "Is it someone who was on the boat?" asked Mrs Macphail. "Yes, ma'am, she was in the second cabin. She was going to Apia. She has a position as cashier waiting for her." "Oh!" When the trader was gone Macphail said: "I shouldn't think she'd find it exactly cheerful having her meals in her room."
"Don't you think we ought to make Mr Horn turn her out of here?" asked Mrs Davidson. "We can't allow her to insult us." "There doesn't seem to be any other place for her to go," said Macphail. "She can live with one of the natives." "In weather like this a native hut must be a rather uncomfortable place to live in." "I lived in one for years," said the missionary.
"Eh, but he's a terrible cratur that Ma'colm MacPhail!" said the old wives to each other, for they felt there must be something wicked in him to ride like that. But he turned her aside from the steep hill, and passed along the street that led to the town gate of the House.
Whatever the histories a century from now say about the relative place of such books as we have named, it is certain that they have influenced the movements mightily. The literary histories will say nothing at all about them. They are not great literature, but they were born of a passion of the times and voiced and aroused it anew. MacPhail, Essays on Puritanism, p. 278.
"And why haven't you your own name now? I'm sure it's a much prettier name." "Pecause she'll pe taking the other, my tear laty." "And why?" "Pecause pecause ... She will tell you another time. She'll pe tired to talk more apout ta cursed Cawmills this fery tay." "Then Malcolm's name is not MacPhail either?" "No, it is not, my lady." "Is he your son's son, or your daughter's son."
Wi' his help, a man may warstle throu' onything. I say I think it was himsel' tuik me throu' 't, an' here I stan' afore ye, ready for the neist trible, an' the help 'at 'll come wi' 't. What it may be, God only knows!" He was interrupted by the sudden opening of the door, and the voice of the factor in exultant wrath. "MacPhail!" it cried. "Come out with you. Don't think to sneak there.
I don't know why I didn't understand at once what that woman was." "Now you come to speak of it," said Mrs Macphail, "I remember seeing her come on board only a few minutes before the boat sailed. I remember thinking at the time she was cutting it rather fine." "How dare she come here!" cried Davidson indignantly. "I'm not going to allow it." He strode towards the door.
Malcolm, however, caught sight of him and his attitude in time, and, fearful of breaking his word to Lizzy, pulled himself up abruptly a few steps from the top just as Florimel appeared. "MacPhail," she said, sweeping to the stair like an indignant goddess, "I discharge you from my service. Leave the house instantly."
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