"Thank ye. I s'pose you'll think I'm wild, makin' calls at this hour!"
And Miss Beswick seated herself, with an angular movement, and held herself prim and erect in the chair.
"Why, no, I don't," said Mrs. Ducklow, civilly; while at the same time she did think it very extraordinary and unwarrantable conduct on the part of her neighbor to be walking the streets and entering the dwellings of honest people, alone, after eight o'clock, on a dark night.
"You're jest in time to set up and take a cup o' tea with my husband": an invitation she knew would not be accepted, and which she pressed accordingly. "Ye better, Miss Beswick, if only to keep him company. Take yer things, won't ye?"
"No, I don't go a-visitin', to take off my things and drink tea, this time o' night!"
Miss Beswick condescended, however, to throw back the shawl from her head, exposing to view a long, sinewy neck, the strong lines of which ran up into her cheeks, and ramified into wrinkles, giving severity to her features. At the same time emerged from the fold of the garment, as it were, a knob, a high, bare poll, so lofty and narrow, and destitute of the usual ornament, natural or false, that you involuntarily looked twice, to assure yourself that it was really that lovely and adorable object, a female head.
"I've jest run over to tell you the news," said Miss Beswick.
"Nothing bad, I hope?" said Mrs. Ducklow. "No robbers in town? for massy sake!" And Mrs. Ducklow laid her hand on her bosom, to make sure that the bonds were still there.
"No, good news,—good for Sophrony, at any rate!"
"Ah! she has heard from Reuben?"