The girl came back to the bed her hands folded together.
'I'm sorry, mum . . . I . . . I've . . .'
'Yes? what's the matter?'
Mary did not answer, but Victoria could see she was disturbed. Her cap was disarranged; it inclined perhaps five degrees from the vertical. There was a faint flush on her cheeks.
'What's the matter,' said Victoria sharply. 'Is there anything wrong?'
'No, mum. . . . Yes mum. . . . They say in the paper . . . . There's been trouble in Ireland, mum. . . .'
'In Ireland?' Victoria sat bolt upright. Her heart gave a great bang and then began to go with a whirr.
'At Rossbantry, mum . . . last night . . . he's shot. . . .'
'Shot? Who? can't you speak?'
'The Major, mum.'