Wragge turned
round--dropped a third parcel--and, forgetting it in her astonishment,
ascended the second flight of stairs. Magdalen stepped out on the
first-floor landing, with the towel held over her forehead as if she
was suffering from headache. Her false eyebrows required time for their
removal, and a headache assumed for the occasion suggested the most
convenient pretext she could devise for hiding them as they were hidden
now.
"What are you disturbing the house for?" she asked. "Pray be quiet; I am
half blind with the headache."
"Anything wrong, ma'am?" inquired the landlady from the passage.
"Nothing whatever," replied Magdalen. "My friend is timid; and the
dispute with the cabman has frightened her. Pay the man what he wants,
and let him go."
"Where is She?" asked Mrs. Wragge, in a tremulous whisper. "Where's the
woman who scuttled by me into your room?"
"Pooh!" said Magdalen. "No woman scuttled by you--as you call it. Look
in and see for yourself."
She threw open the door. Mrs. Wragge walked into the room--looked all
over it--saw nobody--and indicated her astonishment at the result by
dropping a fourth parcel, and trembling helplessly from head to foot.
Pages:
479
480
481
482
483
484
485
486
487
488
489
490
491
492
493
494
495
496
497
498
499
500
501
502
503