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Nodding confirmation to the brilliant rejoinder, Janet fell again to work. But the elder was in no wise discomposed. Withdrawing one eye from the clouds, he turned it approvingly upon her hoe practice. "She's young yet," he said, "an' a lass o' her pairts wull no go til the shelf." "Call three-an'-forty young?" "Christy McDonald," the elder sententiously replied, "marrit on Neil McNab at fifty.
My business is a handicap from a romantic point of view. "I am aware," Mr. McDonald went on, "that it is not customary to speak so frankly of affairs of this sort; but I have two reasons. It hurts me to rest under unjust suspicion. I am no spy, ladies. And the second reason is even stronger.
"Look here, ladies: I am not ashamed of this thing. I I am proud of it. I am perfectly willing to yell it out loud for everybody to hear. As a matter of fact, I think I will." Mr. McDonald stood up suddenly and threw his head back; but here Hutchins, who had been silent, spoke for the first time. "Don't be an idiot!" she said coldly. "We have something here for you to eat if you behave yourself."
Evelyn had just been in and out of her mother's room, on one errand and another, and was going out again, when her mother said: "Oh, by-the-way, Evelyn, at last we have got a splendid place for McDonald." Evelyn turned, not exactly comprehending. "A place for McDonald? For what?" "As governess, of course. With Mrs. Van Cortlandt." "What! to leave us?"
"So you see, Miss McDonald," said Philip, "that writers cannot graft legends on the old stock." "That depends upon the writer," returned the Scotch woman, shortly. "I didn't see the schoolgirl's essay."
Leger, destitute of his camp baggage, caught in his own wolf-pit, flinging a dozen harmless bombs at Stanwix, and frightened half to death at every rumor from Albany; McDonald chased out of the county; Mann captured, and Sir Henry Clinton dawdling in New York and bothering his head over Washington while Burgoyne, in a devil of a plight, sits yonder yelling for help!
Do you suppose he would hang around a girl who was poor, such a sweet, pretty, dear creature as Alice Maitland, who is a hundred times nicer than I am?" "He might," said Miss McDonald, still quizzically. "They say that like goes to like, and it is reported that the Duke of Tewkesbury is as good as ruined." "Do be serious, McDonald." The girl nestled up closer to her and took her hand.
The letter was a little vague, and so Miss McDonald thought as she read it out to me, for it did not give me much idea of what I was to do. But probably she wants some one to arrange the flowers, and write notes, and so on, and take the children down on the beach and that sort of thing." "Oh, but how lovely for you!" Margaret said, with a touch of envy in her voice.
And yet his dream was sustained by occasional assurances from Miss McDonald of her confidence in Evelyn's belief in him, nay, of her trust, and she even went so far as to say affection. So he went on building castles in the air, which melted and were renewed day after day, like the transient but unfailing splendor of the sunset.
"I took a million out of it, next to Carmack's Discovery an' went busted afterward, didn't I?" Alan nodded without speaking. "But that wasn't a circumstance to Gold Run Creek, over the Divide," Stampede continued ruminatively. "Ain't forgot old Aleck McDonald, the Scotchman, have you, Alan?
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