"There, there, there, Mollie! I'm going. By Jove! what a little fiend you are! I didn't think you would take it like this. I—Great powers! Yes, I'm going!"
He flew out, closing the door with a bang. Then he opened it an inch and peeped in.
"I'll come again to-morrow, Mollie. Try, for goodness' sake, to calm yourself in the meantime. Yes, yes, yes, I'm going!"
For, with a shriek of madness, she made a spring at him, and the doctor just managed to slam the door and turn the key before her little, wiry hands were upon his throat.
"Great Heaven!" Dr. Oleander cried to himself, pale and aghast, wiping the cold perspiration off his face; "was ever such a mad creature born on the earth before? She looked like a little yellow-haired demon, glaring upon me with those blazing eyes. Little tiger-cat! I told them she was a raving lunatic, and, by George! she's going to prove me a prophet. It's enough to make a man's blood run cold."
CHAPTER XVI.
MOLLIE'S DESPAIR.
Dr. Oleander descended the stairs, passed through the lower hall, and entered the kitchen—a big, square room, bleak and draughty, like all the rest of the old, rickety place, but lighted by a roaring fire.
Old Sally was bustling about over pots and stew-pans, getting supper; old Peter stood at the table peeling potatoes. In an arm-chair before the fire sat another old woman with snaky-black eyes, hooked nose, and incipient black mustache.