The Woman Thou Gavest Me

as
Nessy MacLeod had told me) the bad fairies came for bad children, I
repeated the strange words again and again.

Another compensation was the greater opportunity I had for cultivating
an acquaintance which I had recently made with the doctor's son, when he
came with his father on visits to my mother. As soon as the hoofs of the
horse were heard on the gravel, and before the bell could be rung, I
used to dart away on tiptoe, fly through the porch, climb into the gig
and help the boy to hold the reins while his father was upstairs.

This led to what I thought a great discovery. It was about my mother. I
had always known my mother was sick, but now I got a "skute" (as old
Tommy used to say) into the cause of her illness. It was a matter of
milk. The doctor's boy had heard his father saying so. If my mother
could only have milk morning, noon and night, every day and all day,
"there wouldn't be nothing the matter with her."

This, too, impressed me deeply, and the form it took in my mind was that
"mammy wasn't sed enough," a conclusion that gained colour from the fact
that I saw Betsy Beauty perched up in a high chair in the dining-room
twice or thrice a day, drinking nice warm milk fresh from the cow. We
had three cows, I remember, and to correct the mischief of my mother's
illness, I determined that henceforth she should not have merely more of
our milk--she should have all of it.

Losing no time in carrying my intentions into effect, I crept into the
dairy as soon as the dairymaid had brought in the afternoon's milking.
There it was, still frothing and bubbling in three great bowls, and
taking up the first of them in my little thin arms--goodness knows
how--I made straight for my mother's room.

But hardly had I climbed half-way up the stairs, puffing and panting
under my burden, when I met Nessy MacLeod coming down, and she fell on
me with her usual reproaches.

"Mary O'Neill, you wilful, underhand little vixen, whatever are you
doing with the milk?"

Being in no mood for

Sir Thomas Henry Hall Caine CH, KBE (May 14, 1853August 31, 1931), usually known as Hall Caine, was a British author. He is best known as a novelist and playwright of the late Victorian and the Edwardian eras. In his time he was exceedingly popular and at the peak of his success his novels outsold those of his contemporaries. Many of his novels were also made into films. His novels were primarily romantic in nature, involving the love triangle, but they did also address some of the more serious political and social issues of the day.

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Harold MacGrath (September 4, 1871 - October 30, 1932) was a bestselling American novelist, short story writer, and screenwriter. Also known occasionally as Harold McGrath, he was born in Syracuse, New York. As a young man, he worked as a reporter and columnist on the Syracuse Herald newspaper until the late 1890s when he published his first novel, a romance titled Arms and the Woman. According to the New York Times, his next book, The Puppet Crown, was the No.7 bestselling book in the United States for all of 1901. From that point on, MacGrath never looked back, writing novels for the mass market about love, adventure, mystery, spies, and the like at an average rate of more than one a year. He would have three more of his books that were among the top ten bestselling books of the year. At the same time, he penned a number of short stories for major American magazines such as The Saturday Evening Post, Ladies Home Journal, and Red Book magazine. Several of MacGraths novels were seriali

Mabel Collins (9 September 1851 - 31 March 1927) was a theosophist and author of over 46 books. She was born in St Peter Port, Guernsey.

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