"
For the stairs had creaked under a cautious, ascending footstep, and
Mrs. Sharpe had heard that creak.
So, too, had Mollie this time; and she turned her shining eyes in
eloquent silence to Mrs. Sharpe, and Mrs. Sharpe had nodded, and smiled,
and grimaced toward the door in a way that spoke volumes.
"I'm going down to get my breakfast, now," she said, authoritatively.
"Let me see what you'll have done by the time I get back."
The stairs were creaking again. Mrs. Sharpe did not hurry too much, and
Mrs. Oleander, all panting, was back in her rocker when she re-entered
the kitchen, trying very hard to look as though she had never left it.
"And how's your patient to-day, Mrs. Sharpe?" she asked, as soon as she
could properly get her wind.
"Much the same," said Mrs. Sharpe, with brevity; "wants to starve
herself to death, crying in spells, and making a time. Let me help you."
This to Sally, who was scrambling to get half a dozen things at once on
the table. Mrs. Sharpe came to the rescue with a practiced hand, and
upon the entrance of old Peter, who had been out chaining up the dogs,
the quartet immediately sat down to breakfast.
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