Poor
Deborah!"
"And Mr Peter?" asked I.
"Oh, there was some great war in India--I forget what they call it-
-and we have never heard of Peter since then. I believe he is dead
myself; and it sometimes fidgets me that we have never put on
mourning for him. And then again, when I sit by myself, and all
the house is still, I think I hear his step coming up the street,
and my heart begins to flutter and beat; but the sound always goes
past--and Peter never comes.
"That's Martha back? No! I'LL go, my dear; I can always find my
way in the dark, you know. And a blow of fresh air at the door
will do my head good, and it's rather got a trick of aching."
So she pattered off. I had lighted the candle, to give the room a
cheerful appearance against her return.
"Was it Martha?" asked I.
"Yes. And I am rather uncomfortable, for I heard such a strange
noise, just as I was opening the door."
"Where?' I asked, for her eyes were round with affright.
"In the street--just outside--it sounded like" -
"Talking?" I put in, as she hesitated a little.
"No! kissing" -
CHAPTER VII--VISITING
One morning, as Miss Matty and I sat at our work--it was before
twelve o'clock, and Miss Matty had not changed the cap with yellow
ribbons that had been Miss Jenkyns's best, and which Miss Matty was
now wearing out in private, putting on the one made in imitation of
Mrs Jamieson's at all times when she expected to be seen--Martha
came up, and asked if Miss Betty Barker might speak to her
mistress.
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