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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Robert Falconer"


'I didn't say that, my boy. But to know that God was good, and
fair, and kind--heartily, I mean, not half-ways, and with ifs and
buts--my boy, there would be nothing left to be miserable about.'
In a momentary flash of thought, Robert wondered whether this might
not be his old friend, the repentant angel, sent to earth as a man,
that he might have a share in the redemption, and work out his own
salvation. And from this very moment the thoughts about God that
had hitherto been moving in formless solution in his mind began
slowly to crystallize.
The next day, Eric Ericson, not without a piece in ae pouch and
money in another, took his way home, if home it could be called
where neither father, mother, brother, nor sister awaited his
return. For a season Robert saw him no more.
As often as his name was mentioned, Miss Letty's eyes would grow
hazy, and as often she would make some comical remark.
'Puir fallow!' she would say, 'he was ower lang-leggit for this
warld.'
Or again:
'Ay, he was a braw chield. But he canna live. His feet's ower
sma'.'
Or yet again:
'Saw ye ever sic a gowk, to mak sic a wark aboot sittin' doon an'
haein' his feet washed, as gin that cost a body onything!'


CHAPTER XVI.
MR. LAMMIE'S FARM.
One of the first warm mornings in the beginning of summer, the boy
woke early, and lay awake, as was his custom, thinking. The sun, in
all the indescribable purity of its morning light, had kindled a
spot of brilliance just about where his grannie's head must be lying
asleep in its sad thoughts, on the opposite side of the partition.


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