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In Mary's converse the singular pronoun, when masculine, always applied to her friend; when feminine, to her mistress. Cornelia had grasped this fact, and had therefore no difficulty in understanding her meaning. She sat down in a chair by the window, and stared at the maid with serious eyes. "Do you love him, Mury? Enough to marry him, and live beside him every one day to the end of your life?
If you'd given a hoot from the window I'd have hustled up, and not kept you waiting. Just hang on two shakes while I get my hat. I won't stay to prink!" "I am not accustomed " began Miss Briskett, automatically, but she spoke to thin air. Cornelia had flown up the path in a cloud of swirling skirts; cries of "Mury!
Her poor old bones haven't ached half so much since she's had it to hap round her of a night." "Isn't that sweet! Hustle up now with my high shoes, and don't mind buttoning in bits of flesh as you did last time. I'd just as lief be left out. See here, Mury, I want everything put back in its place after I'm gone!
You feel happy to think of it?" "I should think I do just. Clean dazed with happiness!" "Poor Mury!" said Cornelia, again. She looked across the room at the flushed, ecstatic face of the prospective bride, and smiled with tender sympathy. "I'm real glad you're pleased. To-night, just as soon as dinner's over, you must go out and tell your friend. I'll fix it up with Aunt Soph.
"Well !" ... she drawled thoughtfully; "Well ! ... Yes, there is an answer, Mason. Give me a pencil from that rack!" She scribbled two or three words; copied an address, and handed it back eagerly. "There! give that to the boy and see here, Mason, I shall want some lunch ready by half after twelve. Send Mury right along to my room. I'm going away!"
And later she would listen as he talked to her of his beautiful home under the eastern sky, of his dear lost mother, Godylt, and his father, King Allof, who was slain by the cruel Mury. She would listen, her eyes dim with tears, for she knew how well he had loved his home in the far-off East.
Cornelia stared at her blankly for a moment, and valiantly forced a smile. "I guess there's two sides to it, as there are to most things in this world. My Poppar'll think it splendid, but you'll hate it badly enough. I'm going pretty quick, Mury! You won't have me but four days more!" The truth was out. She had burned her boats, and made retreat impossible.
Then poor Queen Godylt fled from the palace, taking with her Hynde Horn and his two playmates Prince Athulph and Prince Fykenyld. I cannot tell you what became of the beautiful queen, but Mury, the cruel king, captured Hynde Horn and made him and his two playfellows prisoners. What should he do with Prince Horn, who was heir to the kingdom he had seized? Should he kill the lad, he wondered.
I loved to wait on you, miss; if you'd never given me a thing I'd have loved it all the same you talked so kind, and took such an interest, and was always so lively and laughing. It wasn't for what I could get but the house! ... To have a house thrown at you, as you may say, at a moment's notice it takes away my breath! I can't seem to take it in." "But you are happy, Mury?
We'll speak about that another day; just now we've got to hustle round and get my clothes packed in the next hef hour. Just the dandiest things I've got. I'm going to have a real gay time in a hotel in London, Mury, with some friends from home, so I must be as smart as I know how. ... Get out the big dress basket, and we'll hold a Selection Committee right here on the bed."
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