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Updated: June 10, 2025
There was a good deal going on in the Baby Walk, when Maimie arrived in time to see a magnolia and a Persian lilac step over the railing and set off for a smart walk. They moved in a jerky sort of way certainly, but that was because they used crutches. An elderberry hobbled across the walk, and stood chatting with some young quinces, and they all had crutches.
It makes me think of the last night at the manse, although I am always thinking of it," he added, simply, with a touch of sadness in his voice. Maimie's face grew hot with blushes. "Yes," she answered, hurriedly. "Dear Aunt Murray!" He stood a moment or two as if about to speak, while Maimie waited in an agony of fear, not knowing what to expect in this extraordinary young man.
"Shy!" laughed the minister, scornfully; "he is not too shy to stand up on the table before a hundred men after a logging and dance the Highland fling, and beautifully he does it, too," he added. "But for all that," said his wife, "he is very shy." "I don't like shy people," said Maimie; "they are so awkward and dreadful to do with."
"Nonsense," said Maimie, "he sings tenor splendidly." "Oh, that's fine!" cried Hughie, with delight. He himself was full of music. "Come on, Ranald, you stand up behind Maimie, you will need to see the notes; and I will sit here," planting himself beside his mother. So Hughie arranged it all, and for an hour the singing went on, the favorite hymns of each being sung in turn.
Hence Maimie came to have a smattering of the English poets, could talk in conversation-book French, and could dash off most of the notes of a few waltzes and marches from the best composers, her piece de resistance, however, being "La Priere d'une Vierge."
Clair," she said, in her very chilliest tone. "I asked to see Maimie," said Ranald, looking at her with cool, steady eyes. "I must say, Mr. Macdonald, that after your conduct to my brother yesterday, I am surprised you should have the assurance to enter his house." "I would prefer not discussing office matters with you," said Ranald, politely, and with a suspicion of a smile.
The reason she felt no more fear was that it was now night-time, and in the dark, you remember, Maimie was always rather strange. They were now loath to let her go, for, "If the fairies see you," they warned her, "they will mischief you, stab you to death or compel you to nurse their children or turn you into something tedious, like an evergreen oak."
The way he did it was this: he pressed a spring in the trunks and they shut like umbrellas, deluging the little plants beneath with snow. 'O you naughty, naughty child! Maimie cried indignantly, for she knew what it was to have a dripping umbrella about your ears.
"Are you quite sure you are not hurt?" said Harry, anxiously. "Yes, I really think I am all right, but what a fright I must look!" "Thank God!" said Harry fervently; "I guess you're improving," at which they all laughed. "Now I think we must get home," said Madame De Lacy. "Do you think you can walk, Maimie?"
"He's not a bit queer," said Hughie, stoutly. "He is the best, best, best boy in all the world." "Indeed! how extraordinary!" said Maimie; "you wouldn't think so to look at him." "I think he is just splendid," said Hughie; "don't you, mother?" "Indeed, he is fery brown whatever," mocked Maimie, mimicking Ranald's Highland tongue, a trick at which she was very clever, "and not just fery clean."
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