"I did see Doctor Brown!" answered Richard. "His Reverence was about buying of a new coach, and Lady Betty and Mrs. Philippa went with him to see it."
Whereupon I glanced at Amabel, and she shook her head severely at me.
Shrove Tuesday was a lovely day, I remember. Amabel and I had been out looking for flowers, and had found very few, for spring comes but slowly in Northumberland. However, we had gathered a bunch of wind flowers, and had the wonderful good luck to find in a sheltered sunny spot a tuft of primroses, and a few sweet blue and white violets.
When we went in to carry them to Aunt Chloe, we found her leaning back in her chair sobbing bitterly. Mrs. Deborah held an open letter in her hand, and looked as though she did not know whether to laugh or be angry. A box full of bride-cake and another of white gloves and favors stood on the table.
I guessed all in a minute and glanced at Amabel, who looked puzzled enough. With all her intelligence, she was never very "gleg at the uptak," except where people's feelings were concerned. I was dying with curiosity, but of course I did not ask any questions, but waited to be told.
"Well, nieces, what do you think has happened?" said Mrs. Deborah.
I knew well enough, but nobody likes to have their news forestalled, so I did not say a word, but left the answer to Amabel, who was as innocent as a babe.
"Nothing bad, I hope, aunt; nothing to Mrs. Philippa," said she.
"Something to Mrs. Philippa, but nothing bad," said Mrs. Deborah, trying to keep the corners of her mouth in order. "Nieces, your Aunt Philippa is married!"
And here Mrs. Deborah broke down into a hearty laugh, while Mrs. Chloe sobbed afresh, and murmured, "Sister Deborah, how can you?"