Marcia turned her back upon him, confounded between sorrow and resentment.
Crowding his hat over his eyes, Mr. Sandford left his house and walked with the officer towards Cambridge Street.
"Gone to jail!" exclaimed Charles, returning, "How doosid awkward! What a jolly wow it will make when it gets about town! By gwacious, if you aren't cwying! Go to bed, both of you; I'll go to the club."
He went accordingly; and the women, who could ill console each other, were about to go to their own rooms when the door-bell rang again.
"What next, I wonder?" asked Marcia, in despair.
"Please, Ma'am," said the servant, "there's a man at the door, who looks quare, and says, if he can't see Mr. Sandford, he must see you."
"Tell him I am ill,—and besides, I don't transact my brother's business."
"Yes'm."
But she soon returned with a new message. The man would not go. Mrs.
Sandford at once went to the hall to learn what was the matter, leaving
Marcia trembling in every limb. The conversation was not carried on in
whispers; in fact, Marcia heard every word.
"Sorry to disturb you, Ma'am, especially as Mr. Sandford isn't at home; but duty is duty, and must be 'tended to. My orders is, to 'tach the furnitur', and stay till I git a receipter."