Stretched upon the
floor, with one foot thrust entirely through the banner, which was
folded about her so that the quilt-frame lay directly upon her bosom,
was Mrs. Jeffrey, the broad frill of her cap standing up erect, and
herself asserting with every breath that "she was dead and buried, she
knew she was."
"Wrapped in a winding-sheet, I'll admit," said Maggie, "but not
quite dead, I trust;" and, putting down her light, she attempted to
extricate her governess, who continued to apologize for what she had
done. "Not that I cared so much about your celebrating America; but I
couldn't sleep with the thing over my head; I was going to put it back
in the morning before you were up. There! there! careful! It's broken
short off!" she screamed, as Maggie tried to release her foot from the
rent in the linen sheet, a rent which the frightened woman persisted
in saying she could darn as good as new, while at the same time she
implored of Maggie to handle carefully her ankle, which had been
sprained by the fall.
Maggie's recent experience in broken bones had made her quite an
adept, and taking the slight form of Mrs. Jeffrey in her arms she
carried her back to her room, where, growing more quiet, the old
lady told her how she happened to fall, saying she never thought of
stumbling, until she fancied that Washington and all his regiment were
after her, and when she turned her head to see, she lost her footing
and fell.
Pages:
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98