"Married! I can't believe it!"
"I'll show you my certificate, when I get it. Don't you believe me?"
Mrs. Minto sat quite still upon the bed for a minute, her face intensely pale. She seemed unable to say anything more. Then, very slowly indeed, she recovered the power of motion, and rose wearily to her feet. She did not look at Sally, but kept her eyes away. She stood upright, and took two or three steps. But as she paused again her emotion became overwhelming, and she clutched feebly at the bedrail. With her head resting upon both thin arms she began to cry aloud—great turbulent sobs which shook her whole body.
"My baby! My baby!" she wailed noisily. "Oh, what shall I do! My baby!"
Sally's lips quivered. She tried to smile. Slowly she crept out of bed, and put her arms round her mother.
"Sh! Sh!" she whispered. "Ma! Ma! You're making me blubber, too. You old fool! It's not a funeral!"
Strange emotion shook Sally as well as her mother. But they were different. A thoughtful pucker came between her brows, and she had a smile that was almost contemptuous.
"Ma!" she repeated, as the sobs remained vehement. "Shut up, ma! Oh, what an old image! Talk about a noise! Anybody'd think it was you who was getting married!"
She had recovered her own nerve. She could not see the future; but her head was cool, and she stared over her mother's shoulder at the sunlight bleaching the outer grime of the neighbouring roofs. In her thin nightgown she looked like a child, and her face was so impish that she seemed to regard her marriage as one more in a long series of good jokes. Her eyes were wide open, and her lips smiling.