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As he was putting away his books and preparing to leave the schoolhouse, a small voice piped at his side, "Please, sir?" The master turned and there stood Aristides Morpher. "Well, my little man," said the master, impatiently, "what is it? quick!" "Please, sir, me and 'Kerg' thinks that Mliss is going to run away agin."
Morpher had spent all day in search of her, without discovering a trace that might lead to her discovery. Aristides was summoned as a probable accomplice, but that equitable infant succeeding in impressing the household with his innocence, Mrs.
Morpher, over a kneading-trough, with her bare arm whitened with flour, is genuinely grieved at parting with the master, and, in spite of Mr. Gray's earnest remonstrances, insists upon conducting him into the chill parlor, leaving him there until she shall have attired herself in a manner becoming to "company." "I don't want you to go at all no more I don't," says Mrs.
"M'liss says she knows where Risty is, but she won't tell," said the lawgiver, not heeding the warning. The words were scarcely uttered before M'liss's red hand flashed in the air and descended with a sounding box on the traitor's ear. Lycurgus howled, Mrs. Morpher darted into the corner, and M'liss was dragged defiant and struggling to the light.
Having in this youthful way atoned for certain sins of omission a little further back, he proceeds, with a sense of perfect absolution, on his way to the settlement. A few hours lie between him and his departure, to be employed in friendly visits to Mrs. Morpher, Dr. Duchesne, M'liss, and her mother. The Mountain Ranch is nearest, and thither Mr. Gray goes first. Mrs.
The morning after this affecting episode, M'liss did not come to school. Noon came, but not M'liss. Questioning Clytie on the subject, it appeared that they had left for school together, but the willful M'liss had taken another road. The afternoon brought her not. In the evening he called on Mrs. Morpher, whose motherly heart was really alarmed. Mr.
"And how's Brother James, and the fammerly?" "They're all well except 'Risty; he's off again, as if my life weren't already pestered out with one child," and Mrs. Morpher glanced significantly at M'liss. "Ah, well, we all of us have our trials," said McSnagley. "I've been ailin' again. That ager must be in my bones still. I've been rather onsettled myself to-day."
But the master, like many other professed readers of character, was safer in a posteriori than a priori reasoning, for M'liss had a doll. But then it was a peculiar doll, a frightful perversion of wax and sawdust, a doll fearfully and wonderfully made, a smaller edition of M'liss. Its unhappy existence had been a secret discovered accidentally by Mrs. Morpher.
McSnagley proceeded to inquire after Sister Morpher. "She is an adornment to ChrisTEWanity, and has a likely growin' young family," added Mr. McSnagley; "and there's that mannerly young gal so well behaved Miss Clytie." In fact, Clytie's perfections seemed to affect him to such an extent that he dwelt for several minutes upon them. The master was doubly embarrassed.
"That is," continued the master, with an increase of dignity in inverse proportion to the lapse he had made, "people are apt to be mistaken, Miss Morpher, and without meaning it, to do infinite injustice to their fellow mortals. But I see I am detaining you. I will try and find Melissa. I wish you good-morning." And Don Whiskerandos stalked solemnly away.
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