I never was nearer dying!" She scowled on us all
impartially, while her sister sobbed.
From the bottom of the bed we heard a quivering voice: "Is she
dead? Have they took her away? Oh, I never could bear the sight
o' blood!"
"Arthurs," said Miss Mary, "you are an hireling. Go away!"
It is my belief that Arthurs crawled out on all fours, but I was
busy picking up broken glass from the carpet.
Then Baxter, seated by the side of the bed, began to
cross-examine in a voice I scarcely recognised. No one could for
an instant have doubted the genuine rage of Miss Mary against her
sister, her cousin, or her maid; and that a doctor should have
been called in for she did me the honour of calling me
doctor--was the last drop. She was choking with her throat; had
rushed to the window for air; had near pitched out, and in
catching at the window bars had cut her hand. Over and over she
made this clear to the intent Baxter. Then she turned on her
sister and tongue-lashed her savagely.
"You mustn't blame me," Miss Bessie faltered at last.
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