“Your mother is ill,” she said. “She is at our house. Come directly, but say nothing about it—we must keep it to ourselves.”
There is no need to describe the scene which followed—a very painful one, which the three persons who witnessed it never forgot. Ann showed herself invaluable in the emergency, and John succeeded at last in getting his mother home.
Ann could not quite make up her mind whether Mrs. Hunter was insane or intoxicated, but she had not much time to consider the question, for Margaret had borne all that she could bear, and Ann’s hands were full for the present.
The next morning Margaret wrote accepting the management of the home for training young girls for their future life.
John called in the afternoon, looking so ill that Margaret’s heart ached for him. She put her arms around him, and touched his forehead with her lips.
“Oh, my dear, I wish I could help you,” she said. “Yours is a worse trouble than mine.”
“Were you not frightened last night, Margaret?”
“Yes, I was, and terribly surprised; but I saw at once that Mrs. Hunter was ill. Is she better to-day?”
“She is quiet and exhausted. Margaret, what am I to do?”
“You must take care of her, and nurse her. Let Ann Johnson come and help you. Mrs. Hunter seemed to like her. I cannot stay here, John, and you must take this house, and all that is in it. I do not want the money. I have no use for it, and I think your mother will get better, and look at things differently, if I am no longer here to irritate her.”