Then she got back into bed, and tried to compose her features into some resemblance of invalidism.
When Mr. Grantley came she was resting easier she said (which was true), but would he just get her a drink of water from the kitchen, and would he please shut the door quick after him and not let the cat up.
Mr. Grantley went at once and she heard the door shut with a snap.
Just to be sure that it was "snibbed," Mrs. McGuire tiptoed after him in her bare feet, a very bad thing for a sick-a-bed lady to do, too, but to her credit, be it written, she did not listen at the keyhole.
She got back into bed, exclaiming to herself with great emphasis:
"There, now, fight it out among yerselves."
When the minister stepped quickly inside the little kitchen, closing the door hurriedly behind him to prevent the invasion of the cat (of which there wasn't one and never had been any), he beheld a very busy and beautiful young woman sifting flour into a baking-dish.
"Mary!" he almost shouted, hardly believing his senses.
He recovered himself instantly, and explained his errand, but the pallor of his face was unmistakable.
When Mary handed him the cup of water she saw that his hand was shaking; but she returned to her baking with the greatest composure.