"Oh, horrible, horrible!" cried Mrs. Magill. "Speak to me, Zadie; how did it happen? Can no one tell me?"
"We were just getting up Lady Blanche's chandelier in great style," exclaimed the manager, "when Major Barrington came along, and—"
"No more, no more, for mercy's sake!" entreated the widow, with a shudder.
"Yes," continued the manager, with severe accuracy; "he hit his head against it."
"Mrs. Douce," cried Mrs. Magill, "run out and get my things for me—at once—please."
"I'm sorry," said the landlady, rather sharply, "but I can't leave Natalia." Here some one came forward, and said the hack had arrived.
"You see," protested the widow, "I must have my things." But Mrs. Douce devoted herself to Natalia, obliviously.
Barrington had by this time been got on his feet, and was walking slowly toward the stage-door, the arm of a fellow-officer under his own.
"Major," cried the exasperated widow, "stop!" And, as she spoke, she stepped in front of him.
Barrington did stop; but he looked feebly peevish, and in a tone of disgust said, plainly, "Do let me alone, can't you?" There could be no doubt as to his words.