And then we could just hear the ticking of the clock, the room was so still.
Mother stood with her eyes on Mary's face.
"My dear, you've had a lot of worry since you went," she said.
"Yes," Mary answered.
"And you're going to tell us all about it now, my dear."
But Mary didn't speak. I could see her lips working, in a way they had—not as if she wanted to cry, but as if she was troubled, and didn't know how to put into words what she had to say.
"It's something to do with your brother," mother says—not as if she was asking a question, but as if she was sure.
"Yes; it's something to do with Walter," says Mary; and how my heart did beat!
Then all of a sudden Mary turned to me.
"Kitty's not looking well," she said.