“O, come up Bridget, Marilla’s killed!”
“Ah, now you want to frighten a body out of her wits! You ought to be skinned alive.”
“Oh, come quick!” Jack began to cry.
Bridget walked up stairs very deliberately, “Oh, Holy Mother of God! Get up, children. Marilla, dear—Oh, what have you done to her?”
She took the limp figure in her arms.
“Oh, me darlint! Wurra! wurra! And 191 that bell! As if no one wanted anything but that old body with one foot in the grave. Jack run in next door and ask Mrs. Seymour to come at once; quick, or I’ll bat you with a stick.”
Then she went up stairs. The poor old body was lying in the reclining chair, her face distraught with fright.
“Send for the doctor at once, something has happened to me, I can’t stir. My legs are heavy as lead. Where’s Marilla? I’ve rung and rung!”
“Marilla’s fainted dead away. Yes, I’ll get the doctor,” and down Bridget flew to open the front door.
“Oh for the love of heaven, will you come and talk to that thing in the wall an’ get the doctor! Why, I’m most crazy.”