"To Woodville."
"Now, father—" began Annie, laying hold of his arm.
"Not a word, my dear; I must go."
"But it will be late in the night before you can get back. The day is cold and raw, and it looks as if it would rain."
"I can't help it. It's something I can't put off. Hurry, Jeff, and get ready to go with me."
"O dear!" cried Annie; "this is the worst of all. Let me go for you—please do."
"I'm not a child," said the old gentleman, irritably. "Since I could not go this morning, I must go now. Please don't worry me. It's public business that I have no right to delay, and I promised that it should be attended to today;" and with a hasty "good-by" he took his overcoat and started.
Annie was almost beside herself with vexation and self-reproach, and her feelings must find vent somewhere. Gregory prudently retired to his room.
"There's Zibbie," she thought; "I'll teach her one lesson;" and she went to the kitchen and discharged the old servant on the spot.
Zibbie was in such a reckless state of passion that she didn't care if the world came to an end. The only comfort Annie got in this direction was a volley of impudence.