But the carrying out of her plan was not so easy as the good lady had, at the first blush of the thing, imagined it would be. In the first place, like other heroes and heroines, she experienced the enervating effects of opposition and vacillating purpose in others.
“You must all help me,” she said, with the air of a commander-in-chief.
“Help you to kill a sheep, ma’am?” said Mrs Scholtz, with a shudder, “I’ll die first! I couldn’t do it, and I wouldn’t, for my weight in gold.”
Notwithstanding the vehemence of her protestation, the nurse stood by and listened while the other conspirators talked in subdued tones, and with horrified looks, of the details of the contemplated murder.
“I never even saw the dreadful deed done,” said Mrs Brook, becoming pale as she thought of it.
“Oh, mamma! much better go without meat; we could dine on cakes,” suggested Gertie.
“But my love, there is not a cake or an ounce of flour in the house.”
“Women!” exclaimed Mrs Merton severely, “we must rise to the occasion. I am hungry now, and it is not yet noon; what will be our condition if we wait till night for our dinner?”
This was a home-thrust. The conspirators shuddered and agreed to do the deed. Gertie, in virtue of her youth, was exempted from taking any active part, but an unaccountable fascination constrained her to follow and be a witness—in short, an accomplice.
“Do you know where—where—the knife is kept?” asked Mrs Merton.