We said nothing, but dropped our feeding tools and waited in suspense, till in less than a minute grandma thrust her head in the dining-room door.
"For mercy's sake, Dawn, look in Miss Flipp's room and see is she there."
Dawn rose in a hurry and boxed Andrew's ears as she passed, because he too rose and tumbled over his chair in her way.
"Some people ought to tie themselves up to be out of the way," she ejaculated.
"Miss Flipp is not in her room," she presently called, "and her bed is smooth and made up."
"God save us, then! Mr Danby says she's drownded in the river," exclaimed her grandma. "What's to be done?"
"We'll spare you all the trouble possible, Mrs Clay," said the man, with the respect always tendered the old dame; "but I'm afraid it's a suicide. Some men going to work on the new viaduct just noticed her clothes sticking up as they crossed the bridge at daylight and reported it, and I was sent down. We've taken the body to Jimmeny's pub., and sent for the coroner, at all events."
Dawn and Andrew howled together in a frightened manner, while the sensible Carry, who never lost her head, admonished them—
"Don't be jackdaws. That won't mend matters. Perhaps it isn't half as bad as some make out. Things never are when you get the right hang of them."
"Things are bad enough anyhow, but the way to mend 'em ain't to be snivelling," rapped out grandma, giving Dawn and Andrew a shaking that braced them up.