MacPherson," said Aunt Olivia firmly, "that doesn't
cover the difficulty. I knew you would not understand.
My ways are not your ways and I cannot make them over.
For--you track mud in--and--and--you don't care whether things
are tidy or not."
Poor Aunt Olivia had to be Aunt Olivia; if she were being burned at
the stake I verily believe she would have dragged some grotesqueness
into the tragedy of the moment.
"The devil!" said Mr. Malcolm MacPherson--not profanely or angrily,
but as in sheer bewilderment. Then he added, "Nillie, you
must be joking. It's careless enough I am--the west isn't
a good place to learn finicky ways--but you can teach me.
You're not going to throw me over because I track mud in!"
"I cannot marry you, Mr. MacPherson," said Aunt Olivia again.
"You can't be meaning it!" he exclaimed, because he was beginning
to understand that she did mean it, although it was impossible
for his man mind to understand anything else about the puzzle.
"Nillie, it's breaking my heart you are! I'll do anything--
go anywhere--be anything you want--only don't be going back
on me like this."
"I cannot marry you, Mr. MacPherson," said Aunt Olivia for
the fourth time.
"Nillie!" exclaimed Mr.
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