Poor Mrs. Peggy sat frozen to her chair in terror. What on earth could she do! Her husband was gone for the day. There was no chance for his return before six o'clock at least.
"Poor, useless body!" she exclaimed, "the neighbours' property in danger, their very lives threatened, a traitor in their midst, and me sitting here knowing it all, and not able to do anything!"
She was so distressed at her helplessness that tears rolled down her thin cheeks. But soon she dried them and said, emphatically:
"There's no avoiding it; I must get word to Mrs. Morton!"
She thought harder than she had ever done before in all her life; then, as if answering objections, she said aloud:
"If I can't get anybody to go for me, I will go myself."
She, poor soul, who had never moved unaided for five long years, except to turn the wheels of her chair for a few yards in her little narrow room!
She rolled herself away from the fire toward the door. With a little difficulty she opened it, and peered out. Although she was warmly clad, the rush of cold air made her shiver, but she wrapped one of her shawls around her head and watched.
No one passed. Twelve o'clock struck. In a few hours it would be too late.
