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Updated: June 26, 2025
I didn't walk in until I was certain there wasn't a stranger on the island including strangers you might not have known about." Hartson Brant rose. "Well, I think we've settled all initial details except where we put the Millers or rather, the Morrisons. Can you bring them tomorrow?" Steve rose, too. "As Rick and Barby said, I didn't have any doubts. How about tonight?" "Tonight!" Barby gasped.
Their real names, you must know, were Rhodes and Elizabeth Morrison. Rhodes was six, and Elizabeth five, and sometimes they were called "Roddy" and "Betty," but most always Brother and Sister. This was partly because they were so many Morrisons.
There were the Tousy and the Peasly girls, the Wright girls and the Morrisons, to say nothing of the Smiths, Browns, and Joneses, many of whom were the daughters of cultured parents. If any one nowadays believes that Indianapolis little spot in the wilderness though it was lacked refined society during the thirties, he is much mistaken.
An intruding elephant might be evicted; Rellihan could not even receive the tap of a single word of remonstrance. It promised only another day like the others, with nothing that hinted at a climacteric which would make the affairs of the mill office of the Morrisons either better or worse. Then Col.
"What's the matter with my old Aunty Nan?" cried a hearty young voice from the doorway. Jordan Sloane stood there, his round, freckled face looking as anxious and sympathetic as it was possible for such a very round, very freckled face to look. Jordan was the Morrisons' hired boy that summer, and he worshipped Aunty Nan.
A half-hour later, when the meal was over and Christopher had gone out to the stable, the two women tied on their bonnets and went softly through the hall. As they passed Mrs. Blake's door she awoke and called out sharply. "Cynthia, is that you? What are you doing up so early?" Cynthia paused at strained attention on the threshold. "I'm going to the Morrisons', mother, to spend the day.
The Morrisons had been so tired from the strain of getting out of Washington undetected, and from the trip in the confined quarters of the Coast Guard cutter that they had gone to bed almost immediately. Dr. Morrison turned out to be a tall man with a kind, tired face, steel-rimmed glasses, and a shock of curly white hair. Mrs.
"Goodwife," said he, "I am Hugh Morrison from Glenae, come of the Manly Morrisons of auld lang syne, that never took short weapon against a man in their lives. And neither needed they. They had their broadswords, and I have this bit supple" showing a formidable cudgel; "for dirking ower the board, I leave that to John Highlandman.
Now, mother, no more worry for you, and a rest from all that miserable sewing that makes your eyes red. Hurrah for the Morrisons! they're sure IT right now."
Morrison was a pleasant, stylish woman whose reaction was a mixture of pure pleasure at finding herself in the comfortable Brant home and embarrassment at the circumstances that had forced her to impose herself on strangers. Rick had liked both the Morrisons immediately. His reaction to Janice was favorable, too.
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