Nannie heard anything more? Did she know where _they_ were?
"I asked her uncle to come down here and see if Mrs. Maitland had
heard anything, but--he was dreadful, Nannie, dreadful! He said
he would see the whole family in--I can't repeat where he said he
would see them!" She broke down and cried; then, crouching at
Nannie's side, she read Blair's letter by the uncertain light of
the fire. After that, except for occasional whispered
ejaculations of terror and pain, they were silent, sitting close
together like two frightened birds; sometimes a lump of coal
split apart, or a hissing jet of gas bubbled and flamed between
the bars of the grate, and then their two shadows flickered
gigantic on the wall behind them; but except for that the room
was very still. When the older woman rose to go, Nannie clung to
her:

"Oh, won't you tell her? Please--please!" Poor old Miss White
could only shake her head:

"I can't, my dear, I _can't!_ It would not be fitting. Do it
now, my dear; do it immejetly, and get it over."

When Cherry-pie had wavered back into the night, Nannie gathered
up her courage to "get it over." She went stealthily across the
hall; but at the dining-room door she stood still, her hand on
the knob, not daring to enter. Strangely enough, in the midst of
the absorbing distress of the moment, some trick of memory made
her think of the little 'fraid-cat, standing outside that door,
trying to find the courage to open it and get for Blair--for
whose sake she stood there now--the money for his journey all
around the world! In spite of her terror, she smiled faintly;