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"Donal Grant, by George MacDonald"

But the varra day he had made up his min' that nothing
should make him spend another week in the house, for Monday nights
were always the worst, there cam a letter from the gentleman, sayin'
that only that same hoor that he was writin' had he received the
maister's letter; an' he was sorry he had not had it before, but
prayed him to put up with things till he got to him, and he would
start at the farthest in two days more, and would set the thing
right in less time than it would take to tell him what was amiss.--A
strange enough letter to be sure! Mr. Harper, that was their butler,
told me he had read every word of it! And so, as, not to mention the
terrors of the nicht, the want of rest was like to ruin us
altogether, we were all on the outlook for the appearance of oor
promised deliverer, sae cock-sure o' settin' things straucht again!
"Weel, at last, an' that was in a varra feow days, though they
luikit lang to some i' that hoose, he appearit--a nice luikin'
gentleman, wi' sae sweet a smile it wasna hard to believe whate'er
he tellt ye. An' he had a licht airy w'y wi' him, that was to us
oppresst craturs strangely comfortin', ill as it was to believe he
could ken what had been goin' on, an' treat it i' that fashion!
Hooever,--an' noo, my lady, an' Mr. Grant, I hae to tell ye what the
butler told me, for I wasna present to hear for mysel'. Maybe he
wouldn't have told me, but that he wasn't an old man, though twice
my age, an' seemt to have taken a likin' to me, though it never came
to anything; an' as I was always ceevil to any person that was
ceevil to me, an' never went farther than was becomin', he made me
the return o' talkin' to me at times, an' tellin' me what he knew.


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