“Worse than an accident?”
“Yes; leastways, I call it so.”
“Let me hear it, then, Mrs. Simpkins.”
“Here 'tis; you can read it for yourself.”
This was the paragraph:
“A young man named Walter Sherwood was arrested yesterday, charged with stealing a valuable mare belonging to Colonel Richard Owen. We understand his trial is to take place this morning.”
“When is the paper dated?” asked Nancy, who did not appear so much overcome as her visitor expected.
“Over two months since. Walter Sherwood is probably in jail now. I feel for you and the doctor,” said Mrs. Simpkins, in a tone far from sympathetic, fixing her beadlike eyes on the housekeeper.
“That's very good of you, but, as we got a letter from Walter yesterday, there ain't no call to be troubled.”
“Did he write from the jail?”