With no thought other than that the lady was deaf or exceedingly preoccupied, Miss Rachel stepped nearer, and said very loudly:
“Good-afternoon!”
Still no response, and now Miss Rachel became frightened.
“She has had a stroke or something,” she exclaimed, and, stooping, she peered into the stranger’s face.
“Oh, Abbie! her cheek is hurt! Somebody has struck her, or thrown a stone at her. How dreadful!”
Miss Abbie fluttered about.
“Oh, Rachel! How awful! What shall we do? Call for help, but don’t let the children come here.”
“Yes, let us come,” cried Dick, as he and Dolly danced toward the group. “Let us come, she’s our friend; she’s Lady Eliza Dusenbury.”
“What do you mean?” cried Miss Rachel. “This lady has been hurt somehow. Go and call Hannah. Or perhaps we had better send Michael for a doctor.”
“No, don’t, Aunt Rachel,” said Dolly, who was now shrieking with laughter. “Lady Eliza isn’t much hurt. But isn’t she a dear!”