"What do you mean?"
"That he was only run down to see how we get along, and to tell us to be
all ready for an early start. We are going to Cuba."
"We?"
"Yes," with a grim smile and nod, "we. You, and me, and Doctor
Oleander."
"Oh, nurse--"
"Hush! Hear me out--I can stay but a minute. He is going to take you
to Cuba. His affairs are nearly arranged. He means to start on Friday
night--this is Tuesday. A schooner will be in waiting at the wharf, in
the village yonder. I am to go with you as attendant. He is very much
pleased with me, and I have consented."
Mrs. Sharpe laughed softly.
"But, nurse--"
"Yes, yes; be still. We won't go--be sure of that. He wanted to come up
to see you, but I told him he had better not, if he wanted to have you
quiet when the time came. So he goes off again to-night without
troubling you."
Mollie clasped her hands in thankfulness.
"How can I thank you? How good you are!"
"Thank me by going straight to bed and sleeping like a top. Let the
thought that it is likely to be your last night under this accursed roof
be your lullaby.
Pages:
288
289
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312