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"Donal Grant, by George MacDonald"

So he followed, careful they should not see him.
They came to a baker's shop, and, stopping at the door, Eppy, in a
voice that in vain sought to be steady, asked Donal if he would be
so good as wait for her a moment, while she went in to speak to the
baker's daughter. Donal made no difficulty, and she entered,
leaving the door open as she found it.
Lowrie Leper's shop was lighted with only one dip, too dim almost to
show the sugar biscuits and peppermint drops in the window, that
drew all day the hungry eyes of the children. A pleasant smell of
bread came from it, and did what it could to entertain him in the
all but deserted street. While he stood no one entered or issued.
"She's having a long talk!" he said to himself, but for a long time
was not impatient. He began at length, however, to fear she must
have been taken ill, or have found something wrong in the house.
When more than half an hour was gone, he thought it time to make
inquiry.
He entered therefore, shutting the door and opening it again, to
ring the spring-bell, then mechanically closing it behind him.
Straightway Mrs. Leper appeared from somewhere to answer the squall
of the shrill-tongued summoner. Donal asked if Eppy was ready to
go. The woman stared at him a moment in silence.
"Eppy wha, said ye?" she asked at length.
"Eppy Comin," he answered.
"I ken naething aboot her.


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