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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Salted with Fire"

Evidently he took it all as intended solely for his pleasure.
Maggie burst out laughing through the tears that yet filled her eyes, and
the child, who could hear but not see her, began to cry a little, so
rousing the mother in her to a sense that he was being treated too
unceremoniously; when she bounded to liberate him, undid the towel, and
seated herself with him in her lap. The grandfather, not sorry to be
released, gave his shoulders a little writhing shake, laughed an amused
laugh, and set off boring and stitching and drawing at redoubled speed.
"Weel, Maggie?" he said, with loving interrogation, but without looking up.
"I saw ye was richt, father, and it set me greitin sae sair that I forgot
the bairn, and you, father, as weel. Gang on, please, and say what ye think
fit: it's a' true!"
"There's little left for me to say, lassie, noo ye hae begun to say't to
yersel. But, believe me, though ye can never be the bairn's ain mither,
_she_ can never be til 'im the same ye hae been a'ready, whatever mair or
better may follow.


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