CHAPTER III.
THE SOUND OF GALLOPING.
A rush of wind came in from the outer gloom and almost blew out the candle. Williams held up his hand to protect the flame and stepped aside from before the doorway.
The wind was promptly followed by Elizabeth, who strode in with the air that a king might show on reentering one of his palaces, still holding her whip in her gloved hand. Behind her came Colden, the picture of moody dejection. When Cuff had entered with the portmanteaus, Williams, seeing but three horses without, closed the door, locked it, and looked with inquiry and bewilderment at Elizabeth.
“Br-r-r-r!” she ejaculated. “Light up my chamber, Molly, and have a fire in it; then make some hot tea, and get me something to eat.”
Elizabeth’s impetuosity sent the open-mouthed maid flying up-stairs to execute the first part of the order, whereupon the mistress turned to the wondering steward.
“I’ve come to spend a week at the manor-house, Williams. Cuff, take those to my room.”
The black boy, with the portmanteaus, followed in the way Molly had taken, but with less rapidity. By this time Williams had recovered somewhat from his surprise, and regained his voice and something of his stewardly manner.
“I scarcely expected any of the family out from New York these times, miss. There——”