"Really, Ranald, you are impertinent. I would send you out of the room
at once, but you must beg Mrs. Mitchell's pardon first, and after that
there will be something more to say, I fear."
"But, father, you have not heard my story yet."
"Well--go on. It is fair, I suppose, to hear both sides. But nothing
can justify such conduct."
I began with trembling voice. I had gone over in my mind the night
before all I would say, knowing it better to tell the tale from the
beginning circumstantially. Before I had ended, Turkey made his
appearance, ushered in by Allister. Both were out of breath with
running.
My father stopped me, and ordered Turkey away until I should have
finished. I ventured to look up at the Kelpie once or twice. She had
grown white, and grew whiter. When Turkey left the room, she would
have gone too. But my father told her she must stay and hear me to the
end. Several times she broke out, accusing me of telling a pack of
wicked lies, but my father told her she should have an opportunity of
defending herself, and she must not interrupt me. When I had done, he
called Turkey, and made him tell the story. I need hardly say that,
although he questioned us closely, he found no discrepancy between our
accounts. He turned at last to Mrs. Mitchell, who, but for her rage,
would have been in an abject condition.
"Now, Mrs. Mitchell!" he said.
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