“Yes, we do,” Mary contrived to articulate, “but I don’t know—I’m afraid——” She broke off helplessly in the midst of the disjointed sentence and, raising her voice, called: “Eliza, is Jane there?” 65
“She’s upstairs. I’ll fetch her down,” responded Eliza, coming to the door. “What is it?”
“It’s Miss Webster’s niece askin’ for eggs.”
“Miss Webster’s niece! Ellen Webster’s?”
The explanation had in it an intonation of terror.
“Yes.”
“My land, Mary! What shall we do? Martin will never——” the awed whisper ceased. “I’ll call Jane,” broke off Eliza hurriedly.
Lucy heard the messenger speed across the floor and run up the stairs.
“I’m afraid I’m making you a great deal of trouble,” she remarked apologetically.
“No.”