"O, why don't you give us the letter," said Louise, "so we can see for ourselves?"
But she was too excited to read it; and while she was trying to collect her ideas, Aunt Madge had to hunt for grandma's spectacles; and then the three looked over the surgeon's letter together, sometimes all talking at once.
Captain Clifford would be in Maine as soon as possible: so the letter said. A young man was to come with him to take care of him, and they were to travel very slowly indeed; might be at home in a fortnight.
"They may be here to-night," said Mrs. Parlin.
This letter had been written to prepare the family for Captain Clifford's arrival. It was expected that Aunt Madge would break the news to his wife.
"It's a pity that little flyaway of a Horace didn't give you the letter in time," said Louise; "and then we might have had some days to get used to it."
"Wait a minute, dear," said Aunt Madge, as Susie came in for a drink of water: "please run up and ask Aunt Maria to come downstairs. Now, mother," she added, "you are the one to tell the story, if you please."
"We can all break it to her by degrees," said Mrs. Parlin, twisting her checked apron nervously.
When Mrs. Clifford entered the kitchen, she saw at once that something had happened. Her mother with a flushed face was opening and shutting the stove door. Margaret was polishing a pie-plate, with tears in her eyes, and Louise had seized a sieve, and appeared to be breaking eggs into it. Nobody wanted to speak first.
"What do you say to hearing a story?" faltered Louise.