But what did I find?"
At that moment, John Henry entered the barn, smoking his corncob pipe.
When the smell of smoke reached Anna, she grew weak and ill, and
stumbling back to the house, went upstairs to rest. But even to climb
the stairs made her catch her breath. Now, before breakfast of a
morning, she was deathly sick; afterwards she was tired, and ready to
cry over anything. Poor Anna; she was dumb with shame. "I'm worse
than Mrs. Wicket," she said to herself, over and over again. "I'm
worse than Mrs. Wicket. My life is ruined. I'd be better dead."
And what of honest Thomas? He was pale with fright. It seemed to him
as if the devil had reached up, and caught him by the leg. He was in
for it. But like a fly in a web, he could not believe that it was not
some other fly. "Oh, God," he prayed, "look down . . . say something
to me."
When Mr. Jeminy was told that Thomas Frye and Anna Barly were to be
married, he exclaimed: "What a shame.
"Yes," he continued with energy, "what a shame, Mrs. Grumble.
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