Uncle Sheba went away with her, meek as a lamb.
The others were too frenzied even to notice this little scene. George, Mr.
Willoughby, and some others were with difficulty restrained by the cooler
Dr. Devoe. "Go with me to the station-house," he said. "In behalf of my
patients I will demand that this nuisance be abated."
The officer on duty returned with them, backed by a resolute body of men. The two exhorters were told to take their choice between silence and the station-house. There is usually a good deal of selfish method in such leaders' madness, and they sullenly retired. Poor, demented Hannah was bundled away, and comparative quiet restored through the square.
The weary hours dragged on; the uneasy earth caused no further alarms that night. At last the dawn was again greeted with thankfulness beyond words.
There was no paper that morning, for compositors and pressmen could not be induced to work, and at first there was a feeling of great uncertainty and depression.
Mrs. Bodine's spirit was again like a cork on the surface. At breakfast she remarked, "We had an awful time last night, but here we are still alive, and able to take some nourishment. I expect the Northern papers will say that this wicked and rebellious old city is getting its deserts; but we shall soon have help and cheer from our Southern friends."
"I think you will find yourself mistaken, Mrs. Bodine, about the North," said George.
"Oh. you!" cried the old lady, laughing, "you look at the South through a pair of blue eyes. I reckon we shall have to send you and Ella North as missionaries."
George in his pride and happiness could not keep his secret, and had been congratulated with honest heartiness. He therefore responded gayly, "When I take Ella North even earthquakes won't keep young fellows from coming here to see if any more like her are left."
Again Ella remarked, nodding significantly, "Time will cure him, Cousin
Sophy."