“Deary me,” said Miss Dorinda, as she reached her own room, “how tired I am! I believe I grow older every year. Are you tired, sister?”
“Yes; but I’m so thankful that the attic is done. When that’s over I always feel like singing the long-meter doxology.”
“Well, I’m too tired to sing; I’ll rest a bit before dinner.”
CHAPTER II
LADYBIRD
Dinner at Primrose Hall was rather an elaborate meal, and was always served promptly at six o’clock. Old Josiah Flint had been very particular about his household appointments and habits, and since his death his daughters had made no changes.
After dinner the ladies always went to the library and read the village newspaper, or dozed over their knitting-work until bedtime.
But one evening in early June this routine was interfered with, by the arrival of a letter bearing a foreign postmark. It was addressed in what was evidently a man’s hand, and the two good ladies were greatly excited. Miss Dorinda felt a pleasant flutter of anticipation, but Miss Priscilla felt a foreboding that something disagreeable was in the letter, and she hesitated before she opened it.
“It’s postmarked ’London’”
“It’s postmarked ‘London,’” she said. “Do we know any one in London? Maria Peters went there once, but she came back, and anyway, she’s dead.”