And she sat still and read, her face as grave and earnest as if she were reading in the Bible.
She was startled from her reading by the snapping of a whip before the window. She looked out quickly--there stood the Baumhagen carriage; the coachman in his white rubber coat and the cover drawn over his hat, the iron-gray horses black with the drenching rain. She opened the window to see if any one got out. Johanna came out and the coachman gave her a letter with which she ran quickly back into the house.
Gertrude was startled. An accident at home? She flew to the door.
"A letter, ma'am."
She hastily tore it open.
"Come at once--I must speak to you without delay.
"Your Mother."
Such were the oracularly brief contents of the note.
"Bring me my things, Johanna, and tell my husband."
"Frank," she cried, as he entered, hurriedly, "something must have happened."