Peggy and I sat down on the stairs to await his coming in a crisping suspense . Aunt Olivia 's kitten , a fat , bewhiskered creature , looking as if it were cut out of black velvet , shared our vigil and purred in maddening peace of mind . We could see the garden path and gate through the hall window , and therefore supposed we should have full warning of the approach of Mr. Malcolm MacPherson . It was no wonder , therefore , that we positively jumped when a thunderous knock crashed against the front door and re-echoed through the house . Had Mr. Malcolm MacPherson dropped from the skies ? We afterwards discovered that he had come across lots and around the house from the back , but just then his sudden advent was almost uncanny . I ran downstairs and opened the door . On the step stood a man about six feet two in height , and proportionately broad and sinewy . He had splendid shoulders , a great crop of curly black hair , big , twinkling blue eyes , and a tremendous crinkly black beard that fell over his breast in shining waves . In brief , Mr. Malcolm MacPherson was what one would call instinctively , if somewhat tritely , `` a magnificent specimen of manhood . '' In one hand he carried a bunch of early goldenrod and smoke-blue asters . `` Good afternoon , '' he said in a resonant voice which seemed to take possession of the drowsy summer afternoon . `` Is Miss Olivia Sterling in ? And will you please tell her that Malcolm MacPherson is here ? '' I showed him into the parlour . Then Peggy and I peeped through the crack of the door . Anyone would have done it . We would have scorned to excuse ourselves . And , indeed , what we saw would have been worth several conscience spasms if we had felt any . Aunt Olivia arose and advanced primly , with outstretched hand .
`` Mr. MacPherson , I am very glad to XXXXX you , '' she said formally .
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