“Hush, gor-gor-gormandizer,” said Higby, turning fiercely on her. “Is this a time for st-st-stuffing when y-young master is nearly dead?”
The pigeon understood nothing of what he said about the boy, but she clearly saw that no food would be forthcoming now, so she uttered a complaining “Wee! wee!” and squatted down in her basket.
As she did so the kitchen door leading into the back hall was thrown violently open and Mrs. Blodgett walked in.
She was a short, stout, middle-aged woman, with red cheeks and a skin that looked as if it were too tight for her fat body. Her clothes, too, were tight, giving her generally an uncomfortable appearance. The expression of her face was often fretful. However, she was on the whole a good sort of woman.
Just now she was greatly excited. She untied her bonnet strings, flung them back, and said in a loud voice, “I’ve seen him.”
“S-s-seen who?” asked Higby, stopping short with a tray in his hands.
“The boy. Where’s the Judge?”
“Master T-t-titus!” exclaimed Higby, walking backward and striking his foot.
“Yes—hush—I’ll tell you later. Give me that pigeon.”
Before anyone could reach the princess Mrs. Blodgett had snatched the basket from one of the kitchen tables, and was walking toward the stairway leading to the upper part of the house.