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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Malcolm"

Perceiving plainly
enough that the girl's trouble was much greater than a passing
quarrel with her mother would account for, and knowing that any
intercession on his part would only rouse to loftier flames the
coal pits of maternal wrath, he resolved at length to take counsel
with Blue Peter and his wife, and therefore, passing the sea gate,
continued his walk along the shore, and up the red path to the
village of Scaurnose.
He found them sitting at their afternoon meal of tea and oatcake.
A peat fire smouldered hot upon the hearth; a large kettle hung
from a chain over it--fountain of plenty, whence the great china
teapot, splendid in red flowers and green leaves, had just been
filled; the mantelpiece was crowded with the gayest of crockery,
including the never absent half shaved poodles, and the rarer
Gothic castle, from the topmost story of whose keep bloomed a few
late autumn flowers. Phemy too was at the table: she rose as if to
leave the room, but apparently changed her mind, for she sat down
again instantly.
"Man ye're unco braw the day--i' yer kilt an' tartan hose!"
remarked Mair as he welcomed him.
"I pat them on to please my daddy an' the markis," said Malcolm,
with a half shamed faced laugh.
"Are na ye some cauld aboot the k-nees?" asked the guidwife.
"Nae that cauld! I ken 'at they're there; but I'll sune be used
till 't."
"Weel, sit ye doon an' tak a cup o' tay wi' 's"
"I haena muckle time to spare," said Malcolm; "but I'll tak a cup
o' tay wi' ye.


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