I was awakened by a hurried knocking at my door, and by an impatient
voice crying:
"Mary! Mary! Get up! Let me in!"
It was Aunt Bridget who had arrived in my husband's automobile. When I
opened the door to her she came sailing into the room with her new
half-moon bonnet a little awry, as if she had put it on hurriedly in the
dim light of early morning, and, looking at me with her cold grey eyes
behind their gold-rimmed spectacles, she began to bombard me with
mingled ridicule and indignant protest.
"Goodness me, girl, what's all this fuss about? You little simpleton,
tell me what has happened!"
She was laughing. I had hardly ever heard Aunt Bridget laugh before. But
her vexation soon got the better of her merriment.
"His lordship's letter arrived in the middle of the night and nearly
frightened us out of our senses. Your father was for coming away
straight, and it would have been worse for you if he had. But I said:
'No, this is work for a woman, I'll go,' and here I am. And now tell me,
what in the name of goodness does this ridiculous trouble mean?"
It was hard to say anything on such a subject under such circumstances,
especially when so challenged, but Aunt Bridget, without waiting for my
reply, proceeded to indicate the substance of my husband's letter.
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