"I must go and see," she said, and hurried from the room, Aunt Phillis
shambling after her in haste and trepidation.

"Stay!" cried Miss Deane: "don't leave me alone. What are you thinking
of?"

But they were already out of hearing. "I was never so shamefully treated
anywhere as I am here," muttered the angry lady, sinking back upon her
pillows. "I'll leave this house to-morrow, if it is a possible thing,
and never darken its doors again."

Listening again, she thought she heard sounds of grief, sobbing and
wailing, groans and sighs.

She was by no means deficient in curiosity, and it was exceedingly
trying to be compelled to lie there in doubt and suspense.

The time seemed very much longer than it really was before Aunt Phillis
came back, sobbing, and wiping her eyes on her apron.

"What is the matter?" asked Miss Deane impatiently.

"Dere's--dere's been a awful commission on de railroad," sobbed Aunt
Phillis; "and Marse Ed'ard's 'most killed."

"Oh, dreadful!" cried Miss Deane. "Have they sent for his mother?"

Aunt Phillis only shook her head doubtfully, and burst into fresh and
louder sobs.