“Where is she? Belike in some hidin’ place, scared into fits because of seein’ her father shot! Or maybe, stunned and unconscious herself,—the deed bein’ done by the same villyun what did for the master! Oh, sakes! it’s bad enough without your makin’ it worse callin’ my darlin’ girl a murderer! Where’s Mrs Varian? What does she say?”
“She’s asleep. The doctor had to quiet her, she was in raving hysterics.”
“Ay, she would be. Poor lady. She’ll be no help in this awful thing. And, sir, another thing: The waitress and the chambermaid, they’re sisters, Agnes and Lena, they say they’re not coming back here. Nothing would induce them to step foot in this house again, they say. They bid me send ’em their things and——”
“Nonsense, they’ll have to come back.” This from Bill. “Tell me where they are. I’ll bring them back.”
“No, they won’t come. They’re going down to Boston tonight.”
“They mustn’t be allowed to do that!”
“They’ve gone by now,” and Hannah looked unconcerned. “But never you mind, they know nothin’ of this matter. They’re two young scared girls, and they’d be no good to you nor anyone else. They know nothin’ to tell, and they’d have worse hysterics than Mrs Varian if you tried to bring ’em back to this house.”
“You won’t desert Mrs Varian, will you, Hannah?” asked Potter.
“Well, I’ll be leavin’ in the mornin’,” and the cook shrugged her shoulders. “I couldn’t be expected to stay in such a moil.”
“No; of course you couldn’t!” exclaimed Potter, angrily. “You don’t care that poor Mrs Varian is in deep trouble and sorrow! You don’t care that there’ll be nobody to cook for her and her brother’s family! You’ve no sense of common humanity,—no sympathy for grief, no heart in your stupid old body!”