“What is the matter? No bad news I hope,” he said, seeing her vexed expression.
“Why, Katie can't come. I declare I could sit down and cry. I sha'n't enjoy the party a bit now, and I wish it were all over.”
“I am sure Katie would be very unhappy if she thought you were going to spoil your day's pleasure on her account.”
“Yes, I know she would. But it is so provoking when I had looked forward so to having her.”
“You have never told me why she cannot come. She was quite full of it all a few days since.”
“Oh, there is a poor old woman in the village dying, who is a great friend of Katie's. Here is her letter; let me see,” she said, glancing over it to see that there is nothing in it that she did not wish him to read, “you may read it if you like.”
Tom began reading. “Betty Winburn,” he said, when he came to the name, “what, poor dear old Betty? why I've known her ever since I was born. She used to live in our parish, and I haven't seen her this eight years nearly. And her boy Harry, I wonder what has become of him?”
“You will see if you read on,” said Mary; and so he read to the end, and then folded it up and returned it.
“So poor old Betty is dying. Well she was always a good soul, and very kind to me when I was a boy. I should like to see her once again, and perhaps I might be able to do something for her son.”
“Why should we not ride over to Englebourn to-morrow? They will be glad to get us out of the way while the house is being straightened.”