"O, you poor woman," exclaimed Margaret, seizing Mrs. Clifford by both hands: "you look so sorrowful, dear, as if nothing would ever make you happy again. Can you believe we have a piece of good news for you?"
"For me?" Mrs. Clifford looked bewildered.
"Good news for you," said Louise, dropping the sieve to the floor: "yes, indeed! O, Maria, we thought Henry was killed; but he isn't; it's a mistake of the papers. He's alive, and coming home to-night."
All this as fast as she could speak. No wonder Mrs. Clifford was shocked! First she stood quiet and amazed, gazing at her sister with fixed eyes: then she screamed, and would have fallen if her mother and Margaret had not caught her in their arms.
"O, I have killed her," cried Louise: "I didn't mean to speak so quick! Henry is almost dead, Maria: he is nearly dead, I mean! He's just alive!"
"Louise, bring some water at once," said Mrs. Parlin, sternly.
"O, mother," sobbed Louise, returning with the water, "I didn't mean to be so hasty; but you might have known I would: you should have sent me out of the room."
This was very much the way Prudy talked when she did wrong: she had a funny way of blaming other people.
It is always unsafe to tell even joyful news too suddenly; but Louise's thoughtlessness had not done so much harm as they all feared. Mrs. Clifford recovered from the shock, and in an hour or two was wonderfully calm, looking so perfectly happy that it was delightful just to gaze at her face.
She wanted the pleasure of telling the children the story with her own lips. Grace was fairly wild with joy, kissing everybody, and declaring it was "too good for anything." She was too happy to keep still, while as for Horace, he was too happy to talk.