The spinsters—who on the morrow would vanish out of the girl's life for ever—had already left their imprint upon her imagination. ‘He prayeth best who loveth best—all things both great and small. "Mac, did you ever run across a missioner by the name of Enschede?" "Enschede?" McClintock stared at the ceiling. He was bewildered. Spare me, and I'll be quiet—quiet —quiet!" "Mother!" said Jack, advancing towards her. He fancied that the turnkeys had discovered his flight and were in pursuit of him,—that they had climbed up the chimney,—entered the Red Room,— tracked him from door to door, and were now only detained by the gate which he had left unbroken in the chapel.
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