But Mrs. Cloud, scribbling an address in her notebook, paid no heed to her or to the maid who ruled her in her daily life, and drove away from their bewilderment at last, looking bowed and unfamiliar and very old—a little old woman carved in ivory.
“She’s got her black on. She hasn’t worn that cloak these ten years,” said the maid. And then, with a gasp—“Miss Laura, what is it? I—I been with her twenty years.”
Laura judged it wisest to tell her.
“It’s bad news, Mary. Mr. Justin’s brother——”
“Mr. John?”
“He died yesterday.”
CHAPTER XXII
When Justin, a fortnight later, heard the story of that afternoon, he was very angry with Laura. Letting his mother go alone! In that state of trouble! Why, a child might have known better!
“She wouldn’t let me, Justin! If you’d seen her! One couldn’t move her. She was like iron.”