"How are you to-day, Mrs. Edwin Barley?"
"They say I am better," she replied; "I hope I am. Is it quite ready?"
"Quite," said he, taking a parchment from one of his pockets. "You will hear it read?"
"Yes; that I may see whether you understood my imperfect letter. I hope it is not long. The church, you know, is not so far-off; they will be back soon."
"It is quite short," Mr. Gregg replied, having bent his ear to catch her speech, for she spoke low and imperfectly. "Where shall my clerk wait while I read it?"
She sent us into her dressing-room, the clerk and I, whence we could hear Mr. Gregg's voice slowly reading something, but could not distinguish the words or sense; once I caught the name "Anne Ursula Hereford." And then we were called in again.
"Anne, go downstairs and find Jemima," were the next orders. "Bring her up here."
"Is it to give her her medicine?" asked Jemima, as she followed me upstairs.
"I don't know."
"My girl," began the attorney to Jemima, "can you be discreet, and hold your tongue?"