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MacDonald, George, 1824-1905

"Robert Falconer"

'
'I would rather be left alone,' persisted Ericson, turning his face
away.
'Now, my dear sir,' said the doctor, with gentle decision, 'that is
very wrong. With what face can you offer a kindness when your turn
comes, if you won't accept one yourself?'
Ericson held out his wrist. Dr. Anderson questioned, prescribed,
and, having given directions, went home, to call again in the
morning.
And now Robert was somewhat in the position of the old woman who
'had so many children she didn't know what to do.' Dr. Anderson
ordered nourishment for Ericson, and here was Shargar upon his hands
as well! Shargar and he could share, to be sure, and exist: but for
Ericson--?
Not a word did Robert exchange with Shargar till he had gone to the
druggist's and got the medicine for Ericson, who, after taking it,
fell into a troubled sleep. Then, leaving the two doors open,
Robert joined Shargar in his own room. There he made up a good
fire, and they sat and dried themselves.
'Noo, Shargar,' said Robert at length, 'hoo cam ye here?'
His question was too like one of his grandmother's to be pleasant to
Shargar.
'Dinna speyk to me that gait, Robert, or I'll cut my throat' he
returned.
'Hoots! I maun ken a' aboot it,' insisted Robert, but with much
modified and partly convicted tone.
'Weel, I never said I wadna tell ye a' aboot it. The fac' 's
this--an' I'm no' up to the leein' as I used to be, Robert: I hae
tried it ower an' ower, but a lee comes rouch throw my thrapple
(windpipe) noo.


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