THE MAN FROM GLENGARRY
don't you know, but a trifle funereal. Makes one think of graves and that sort of thing. Very nice, of course," he added, apologetically, to Kate. Ranald turned and regarded the little man for some moments in silence, and then, with unutterable scorn, exclaimed: "Nice! man, it's wonderful, wonderful to me whatever! Makes me think of all the great things I ever saw.
"What things?" Kate ventured to say.
For a few moments Ranald paused, and then replied: "It makes me think of the big pine trees waving and wailing over me at night, and the big river rolling down with the moonlight on it—and—other things."
"What other things, Ranald," persisted Kate.
But Ranald shook his head and sat silent for some time. Then he rose abruptly.
"I will be going now," he said.
"You will come again soon, Ranald," said Maimie, coming toward him with a look on her face that reminded him of the days in the Glengarry manse. She had forgotten all about his red shirt and silk handkerchief. As Ranald caught that look a great joy leaped into his eyes for a moment, then faded into a gaze of perplexity.
"Yes, do come," added Kate.
"Will you sing again?" he asked, bluntly.
"Yes, indeed," she replied, with a slight blush, "if you want me to."
"I will come. When? To-morrow night?"
"Yes, certainly, to-morrow night," said Kate,
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