“What do you call it, a burn?” he asked her. “It is a burn, is it not,” she answered, looking at him. “No,” said he, “its nothing but a singe,” it made her laugh heartily. “I guess she was pleased to have escaped with such slight damage.” “That is just like Doctor Brown,” said Charles.
Having arrived at home, Miss Taylor was in the same place knitting still; it was half past ten, too late for Charles to pay a visit to Mrs. Brewster. “Mary, I fear you have waited tea for us,” said Martha. “To be sure child, I expected you home to it.”
Martha explained why she did not come, telling of the accident to Mrs. Davis. “Ah, careless! careless! careless! she might have been burned to death,” said Mary, lifting her hands. “She would have been much more burnt had it not been for her presence of mind,” said Charles slowly. Miss Taylor laid down her knitting and approached the tea-table, none must preside at the meals but herself. She inquired of Charles whether he was going out again. “I think not,” he replied indecisively, “I should like to have gone though, the doctor tells me Mary Ann Brewster is worse.” “Weaker I conclude,” said Mary. “Weaker than she has been at all, he thinks there is no hope for her now. No, I will not disturb them,” he positively added, “it would be nearly twelve by the time I reached there.”
“What a loud ring,” exclaimed Mary Taylor, as the bell, pulled with no gentle hand, echoed and echoed through the house; “should it be cousin George come home, he thinks he will let us know who is there.” It was not George. A servant entered the room with a telegram, “the man is waiting, sir,” he said, holding out the paper for Charles to sign. Charles affixed his signature and took up the dispatch; it came from Waterville, Mary laid her hand upon it ere it was open, her face looked ghastly pale. “A moment of preparation,” she said. “Now, Mary, do not anticipate evil, it may not be ill news at all.” He glanced his eye rapidly and privately over it while Martha came and stood near with a stifled sob, then he held it out to Mary, reading it aloud at the same time, “Mrs. Bangs to Charles Taylor, come at once to Waterville, Mr. Bangs wishes to see you.” Mary, her extreme fears having been relieved, took refuge in displeasure. “What does Mrs. Bangs mean by sending a vague message like that?” she uttered. “Is Mr. Bangs worse, is he sick, is he in danger or has the summons not reference at all to his state of health?” Charles had taken it in his hand again and was studying the words--as we are all apt to do when in uncertainty.