"
"Will she come back by hersel?" asked Mary.
"Ay. At first I were afraid o' trusting her, and I used to follow
her a bit behind; never letting on, of course. But, bless you! she
goes along as steadily as can be; rather slow to be sure, and her
head a bit on one side, as if she were listening. And it's real
beautiful to see her cross the road. She'll wait above a bit to
hear that all is still; not that she's so dark as not to see a coach
or a cart like a big black thing, but she can't rightly judge how
far off it is by sight, so she listens. Hark! that's her!"
Yes; in she came, with her usually calm face all tear-stained and
sorrow-marked.
"What's the matter, my wench?" said Job hastily.
"O grandfather! Alice Wilson's so bad!" She could say no more for
her breathless agitation. The afternoon, and the parting with Will,
had weakened her nerves for any after-shock.
"What is it? Do tell us, Margaret!" said Mary, placing her in a
chair, and loosening her bonnet-strings.
"I think it's a stroke o' the palsy. Any rate she has lost the use
of one side.
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