“So there is, I’m so stupid—‘istance’—It’s not rightly divided though—‘as-sistance and a comfort to me.’ I knew it couldn’t be ass.”
“So did I. Ailie an ass! precious child!”
“‘Now, good-bye t’ye, my dear lassies,’
“‘Ever your affectionate brother,’
”(Dear Fellow!)
“‘George Dunning.’”
Now it chanced that the ship which conveyed the above letter across the Atlantic was a slow sailer and was much delayed by contrary winds. And it also chanced—for odd coincidences do happen occasionally in human affairs—that the vessel in which Captain Dunning with Ailie and his crew embarked some weeks later was a fast-sailing ship, and was blown across the sea with strong favouring gales. Hence it fell out that the first vessel entered port on Sunday night, and the second cast anchor in the same port on Monday morning.
The green-painted door, therefore, of the yellow-faced cottage, had scarcely recovered from the assault of the letter-carrier, when it was again struck violently by the impatient Captain Dunning.
Miss Martha, who had just concluded and refolded the letter, screamed “Oh!” and leaped up.
Miss Jane did the same, with this difference, that she leaped up before screaming “Oh!” instead of after doing so. Then both ladies, hearing voices outside, rushed towards the door of the parlour with the intention of flying to their rooms and there carefully arranging their tall white caps and clean white collars, and keeping the early visitor, whoever he or she might be, waiting fully a quarter of an hour or twenty minutes, before they should descend, stiffly, starchly, and ceremoniously, to receive him—or her.