"He will be here shortly. Oh, Faith, not really dying!" in alarm.
"Yes, yes! Grandmother was something that way. To be sure it is little comfort living. But I want to tell thee—Rachel has softened strangely, and sometimes has a frightened, far-away look in her eyes and she listens so when her uncle frets. Oh, if I were but twenty-one, and could get away from it all! It is as if I might see a ghost."
"He wants to see Andrew. Something is to be cast into the fire. I wish I knew."
"It was so quiet and no one was afraid when grandmother died. But this is awesome. Oh, Primrose, I hate to have thee go."
"Faith! Faith!" called the elder sister.
Primrose went her way in a strange state of mind. Was there anything she could do? She would ask Aunt Wetherill.
"Something is on his mind, surely. But whether one ought to take the responsibility to see Mr. Chew, I cannot decide."
How long the hours appeared! Twice the next day she sent fleet-footed Joe down to see if any soldiers had come in. And Madam Wetherill called at the Attorney General's office to find that he was in deep consultation with the Congress.
Just at the edge of the next evening there was a voice at the great hall door that sent a thrill to her very soul. She sped out.
"Oh, Primrose—dear child——"