Now, when the autocratic Sarah made a statement of this nature, it was time for the family to tremble! Mrs. Bronson argued, pleaded, commanded—in vain. Sarah could no more be budged from her position than the Rock of Gibraltar. Urged to state her reasons, she would offer but two. And these were that, about forty years ago, she herself had come over from Ireland in a truly "rampagin'" ship, and never again would she trust herself or any one she held dear to the mercies of the ocean. Arguments that ship-building had made some progress and traveling was safer since those days had absolutely no effect on her—in fact, she refused to believe them!
Her second reason was that Margaret had been in her care ever since she was born, and no one else knew so well what to do for the delicate child. She was firmly convinced that it would be the death of her beloved charge to be removed from her oversight. At last the distracted Mrs. Bronson laid the matter aside for the night, the girls retired to bed in tears and indignation, and Alexander dared to shake his fist at the broad back of Sarah departing to the kitchen. Only Margaret remained in ignorance of the impending disaster, and fell asleep happy beyond words.
The next day Mrs. Bronson sent a request to Mr. Cameron to call that evening, for she felt that the situation must be explained to him. It would be a serious matter if Sarah kept her word—as she doubtless had every intention of doing. It also was important, for the sake of Margaret's health, that she should get away and have this wonderful change. Mrs. Bronson was a sorely troubled woman as she explained the circumstances to her visitor. Mr. Cameron sat in deep thought for a few moments. Then he said:
"Could you have your housekeeper come up here for a few minutes and allow me to see her alone?"
Mrs. Bronson declared that it was entirely possible, summoned Sarah, who arrived full of hostile intent, introduced her to the visitor, and went upstairs, leaving them together for a while. Margaret had by this time learned of the trouble, and was nervous and anxious and feverish. Corinne, who had come with her father, was sitting with her, trying to assure her that she need not worry. But the assurance rang hollow in her own ears. She, too, knew Sarah!
Presently they were surprised to hear her heavy footsteps coming upstairs. They passed the door and entered Mrs. Bronson's room. Then, in a moment, they returned, halted, and a singularly changed Sarah stood in the doorway.
"Yer father's goin' now, Miss Corinne, and he wants ye," she announced in a strangely meek, quiet voice. "I'll be back in two minutes to fix me child for the night. We got to get her in good shape before she takes that rampagin' ship for Bermudy!"
That was all, but she actually smiled—a weak, apologetic little smile—before she vanished from the doorway!
The girls stared at each other in complete bewilderment. Never had they witnessed a change more astonishing.
"Well, doesn't that beat everything!" exclaimed Margaret. "What could have happened to Sarah?"