Go away; I don't like you, you little stumpy man!"
His rage knew no bounds. He pushed the child from him, and vowed
that he would leave the house that moment - that she could not have
thought of such an expression herself; she must have been taught it
by us. This was an entire misconception on his part; but he would
not be convinced that he was wrong. Off he went, and Moodie called
after him, "Malcolm, as I am sending to Peterborough to-morrow, the
man shall take in your trunk." He was too angry even to turn and bid
us good-bye; but we had not seen the last of him yet.
Two months after, we were taking tea with a neighbour, who lived a
mile below us on the small lake. Who should walk in but Mr. Malcolm?
He greeted us with great warmth for him, and when we rose to take
leave, he rose and walked home by our side. "Surely the little
stumpy man is not returning to his old quarters?" I am still a babe
in the affairs of men. Human nature has more strange varieties than
any one menagerie can contain, and Malcolm was one of the oddest of
her odd species.
That night he slept in his old bed below the parlour window, and for
three months afterwards he stuck to us like a beaver.
