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Updated: June 29, 2025
You know: "'Scotland's burning! Scotland's burning! Where, where? Where, where? Fire! Fire! Fire! Fire! Pour on water! Pour on water! Fire's out! Fire's out!" Nan laughed. "I've heard that, too," she said. "But it was another Scotland." Then: "So your name is Llewellen?" "Marg'ret Llewellen."
Every one turned to see the two small girls in the centre of the improvised stage, the other performers drawing back instinctively. Mrs. Costello caught her breath, and half rose from her chair. She had heard, as all the girls knew, that Beatrice did not like Marg'ret, and resented the prominence that Marg'ret had been given in the play.
But don't just sit still all the time, keep moving, so's not to get any colder, 'n I'll come back for you sure." Then, because he felt his courage failing, he said, "Good-by, Marg'ret," and turning abruptly, waded in to his ankles and bent over the log to give it that final impetus which was to set it adrift.
"I knew, if we all prayed about it, your father'd let you!" exulted Teresa, the following afternoon, when Marg'ret Hammond was about to run down the wide steps of the Costello house, in the gathering dusk. The Mayor came into the entrance hall, his coat pocket bulging with papers, and his silk hat on the back of his head, to find his wife and daughters bidding the guest good-by.
"I know them," he said ruminatively. Mrs. Costello looked up. "That's not the Hammond you had trouble with at the shop, Frank?" she said. "Well, I'm thinking maybe it is," her husband admitted. "He's had a good deal of bad luck one way or another, since he lost his wife." He turned to Teresa. "You be as nice as you can to little Marg'ret Hammond, Tess," said he.
Several minutes of these made all the more startling a normal tone, Marg'ret Hammond's everyday voice, saying sharply in a silence: "Well, then, why don't you SAY it?" There was an instant hush. And then another voice, that of a girl named Beatrice Garvey, answered sullenly and loudly: "I WILL say it, if you want me to!" The words were followed by a shocked silence.
'Have yo been readin owt, Davy, since we saw yo? It's a long time, Davy. 'No, nowt of ony account, said David, looking away. 'Ay, but yo mun keep it up. Coom when yo like; I've not mony books, but yo know yo can have 'em aw. I want noan o' them now, do I, Marg'ret? But I want for nowt nowt. Dyin 's long, but it's varra varra peaceful. Margaret!
"After all," she pursued, now joining the heart of the group, "a surplice is a thing you make in the house like any other dress, and you know how girls feel about the things their brothers wear, especially if they love them! Why," said Mrs. Costello, with a delightful smile that embraced the room, "there never were sisters more devoted than Marg'ret and my Alanna!
A raid was made on the cottages for buckets, a chain formed to the river, and at last the fire was got under, having made a wreck of everything out-of-doors, and consumed one whole wing of the house, though the older and more esteemed portion was saved. 'When day was gone and night was come, And all men fast asleep, There came the spirit of fair Marg'ret And stood at William's feet.
"Marg'ret's three months older than me. First they were going to have me, but Marg'ret's the oldest. And she does it awfully nicely, doesn't she, Alanna? Sister Celia says it's really the most important thing of the day. And we all stand round Marg'ret while she does it. And the best of it all is, it's a surprise for Superior!"
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