IV
Six tortured days she waited, and then the response came. Theodora ran in terror to Judith, her black eyes wide, her cheeks ashen.
“What is it, precious? Don’t stand there shaking like that.”
“It’s my mamma, and she’s—I think she’s gone crazy.”
“Because of something—a letter that came a few minutes ago?” She had the child in her arms, soothing her with gentle caresses.
“Oh, Sister Judith, what could my uncle write that would make anyone as furious as that? Last night she couldn’t sleep—because she said our whole life depended on the letter she was looking for. She made me come and get in bed with her, and she told me about Bromfield till I fell asleep in her arms.”
“And your uncle refused to let her have the old home?”
“I don’t know. I was up on the third floor with Drusilla, and all at once I knew that I was needed down stairs. When I was half way down the hall—there stood my mamma like a statue. She didn’t see me, any more than if I’d been a spook without any body. And all at once she began running back and forth and tearing the letter to bits. And then she threw them on the floor and stamped on them. She didn’t speak one single word. That was the awful part—to be as mad as that, and take it out in just jumping up and down!”
“Stay here, dearie. Or, no—” after a moment’s thought—“I want you to go and spend the day with Eileen. Don’t tell her about the letter. Dutton can drive you over in the car. You won’t need a hat.”