"There is a small room empty in the garret, I know.
It ain't much more than a closet, to be sure, but if he could put
up with it for a night or two, just till he found a better, I would
run across and see what they say."
Malcolm wondered at the change in her, but could not hesitate. The
least chance of getting settled in the house was a thing not to be
thrown away. He thanked her heartily. She rose and went, and they
sat and talked till her return. She had been delayed, she said, by
the housekeeper; "the cross old patch" had objected to taking in
anyone from the stables.
"I'm sure," she went on, "there ain't the ghost of a reason why you
shouldn't have the room, except that it ain't good enough. Nobody
else wants it, or is likely to. But it's all right now, and if
you'll come across in about an hour, you'll find it ready for you.
One of the girls in the kitchen--I forget her name----offered
to make it tidy for you. Only take care--I give you warning:
she's a great admirer of Mr MacPhail."
Therewith she took her departure, and at the appointed time Malcolm
followed her. The door was opened to him by one of the maids whom
he knew by sight, and in her guidance he soon found himself in
that part of a house he liked best--immediately under the roof.
The room was indeed little more than a closet in the slope of the
roof with only a skylight.
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