“At ten o’clock Monday morning. Upon arrival at Yarmouth meets steamers for both ports, Madam.”
“None, to-day?”
“None, Madam. It is a law of the Province. From Saturday night to Monday morning all traffic is suspended.”
Mrs. Stark did not continue the dialogue. She couldn’t. She was too astonished and too indignant. That she, Mrs. Ebenezer Stark, wife of the great banker of that name, should not be able to control a matter of this sort was simply incredible. With her head very high she left the desk and sought the Judge in his quiet corner of the piazza, where he sat, newspaper over face, trying to catch “forty winks” after his night of scant sleep.
He suppressed a yawn as he rose at the lady’s call.
“Judge Breckenridge, a moment, if you please. Sorry to disturb you but it’s most important. I want to send a telegram and that ridiculous clerk says I can’t do it.”
“Quite right. I’d like to myself and can’t.”
He placed a chair for her and she thoroughly aired her grievance. He sympathized but declared himself powerless to help her. She remarked:
“It is simply outrageous. A trap to keep visitors here whether or no. My husband will make it his business to alter the whole thing. I must go and take Monty away from here. I am in fear for his life. I shan’t rest till I see him safe back in his father’s arms.”
The Judge listened courteously, but said: