With a howl of dismay, old Sally turned tail and fled incontinently.
Just waiting to exchange one approving glance with her patient, the
nurse thought it prudent to follow her example.
This little incident had one salutary effect. It frightened Sally out
of her feeble old wits, confirming, as it did, Dr. Guy's fable of the
periodical fits of madness to which the young lady was prone. She
related to her mistress, in shrill falsetto, what had occurred.
"And if ever I go near the crazy little hussy again, as long as she's
under this roof," concluded Sally, wildly, "I'm a Dutchman!"
"Weren't you frightened?" Mrs. Oleander asked, turning to the nurse.
"Oh, not much!" said the serene Susan. "I'm used to it, you know. I
could have dodged if she had heaved the tea-pot. She takes them tantrums
once or twice a day."
Mollie spent the evening alone, of course, but in despair no longer.
Hope had planted her shining foot on the threshold of her heart, and
for the time she could forget she was the most miserable wife of Dr.
Oleander, in the face of freedom.
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