These intentions were frustrated by the servant-girl, who opened the green-painted door and let in the captain, who rushed into the parlour and rudely kissed his speechless sisters.
“Can it be?” gasped Martha.
Jane had meant to gasp “Impossible!” but seeing Ailie at that moment bound into Martha’s arms, she changed her intention, uttered a loud scream instead, and fell down flat upon the floor under the impression that she had fainted. Finding, however, that this was not the case, she got up again quickly—ignorant of the fact that the tall cap had come off altogether in the fall—and stood before her sister weeping, and laughing, and wringing her hands, and waiting for her turn.
But it did not seem likely to come soon, for Martha continued to hug Ailie, whom she had raised entirely from the ground, with passionate fervour. Seeing this, and feeling that to wait was impossible, Jane darted forward, threw her arms round Ailie—including Martha, as an unavoidable consequence—and pressed the child’s back to her throbbing bosom.
Between the two poor Ailie was nearly suffocated. Indeed, she was compelled to scream, not because she wished to, but because Martha and Jane squeezed a scream out of her. The scream acted on the former as a reproof. She resigned Ailie to Jane, flung herself recklessly on the sofa, and kicked.
Meanwhile, Captain Dunning stood looking on, rubbing his hands,—slapping his thighs, and blowing his nose. The servant-girl also stood looking on doing nothing—her face was a perfect blaze of amazement.
“Girl,” said the captain, turning suddenly towards her, “is breakfast ready?”
“Yes,” gasped the girl.
“Then fetch it.”
The girl did not move.