John Barton gave an anxious, uneasy
side-glance. Mary knew that if she delayed answering the knock,
Sally would not scruple to enter; so as hastily as if the visit had
been desired, she opened the door, and stood there with the latch in
her hand, barring up all entrance, and as much as possible
obstructing all curious glances into the interior.
"Well, Mary Barton! You're home at last! I heard you'd getten
home; so I thought I'd just step over and hear the news."
She was bent on coming in, and saw Mary's preventive design. So she
stood on tiptoe, looking over Mary's shoulders into the room where
she suspected a lover to be lurking; but instead, she saw only the
figure of the stern, gloomy father she had always been in the habit
of avoiding; and she dropped down again, content to carry on the
conversation where Mary chose, and as Mary chose, in whispers.
"So the old governor is back again, eh? And what does he say to all
your fine doings at Liverpool, and before?--you and I know where.
You can't hide it now, Mary, for it's all in print.
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