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Before the end of that first week, in which the stun and shock were reacting in prompt, cheerful, benevolent organizing and providing, in which, through wonderful, dreamlike ruins, like the ruins of the far-off past, people were wandering, amazed, seeing a sudden torch laid right upon the heart and centre of a living metropolis and turning it to a shadow and a decay, in which human interests and experiences came to mingle that had never consciously approached each other before, in which the little household of independent existences in Leicester Place was fused into an almost family relation all at once, after years of mere juxtaposition, before the end of that week, Aunt Blin died.
She had left, if not driven the devil behind her. Yet she did not know what she had done. She was still bewildered. I believe the worst she thought of what had happened was that he wanted to marry her secretly, and hide her away. "Aunt Blin!" she cried, when she felt herself all alone. "Aunt Blin! She can't have gone so very far away, quite yet!"
A lady's trunk was a cartload; and a lady's trunk passing through the streets was a curiosity; you could scarcely get one carried for love or money. Aunt Blin was a good deal excited; she always was by everything that befell "her Boston."
Lord, sen' him the grace o' oppen e'en to see whaur and what he is, that he may cry oot wi' the lave o' 's, puir blin' bodies, to them that winna see. 'Wauk, thoo that sleepest, and come oot o' thy grave, and see the licht o' the Father i' the face o' the Son." But the minister went away intent on classifying the soutar by finding out with what sect of the middle-age mystics to place him.
Heartily enjoying a row, he stopped instantly, and signing a halt to his followers, stood listening to the mud geyser that now burst from Mrs Catanach's throat. "Ye blin' abortion o' Sawtan's soo!" she cried, "didna I tak ye to du wi' ye as I likit. He's naething but ane o' yer hatit Cawm'ells!"
But Bel was so astonished at the sudden change, it was so funny in its meek manifestation, that she forgot her wrath, and laughed outright. "Why, Auntie!" she cried. "Your beautiful Bartholomew, who understood, and let alone!" Aunt Blin shook her head. "I don't know. I thought so. But I've no con-fidence in him! You'd better hang the cage up high. And I'll go out for the muffins."
The voice seemed to come from his stomach, it was so hollow. "Did you see her, Mr. McGaw?" asked the Scotchman in a positive tone. "How c'u'd I be a-seein' her whin I been in New Yorruk 'mos' all day? D' ye think I'm runnin' roun' to ivery stable in the place? I wuz a-comin' 'cross lots whin I heared it. They says the horse had blin' staggers."
"In the city," said Aunt Blin, with a certain weird unconscious satisfaction; and whipped the porcelains into their places before the second tolling should begin. They were like Pleasant Riderhood's back hair: she was all twisted up, now, and ready. One two. "That ain't fur off. Down Bedford Street way. Give me the fire-book, and my glasses."
It sud be 'nae ony days, for there's nae days or nichts either to the blin'. They dinna ken the differ, ye see." "I'm readin' 't as I hae't," answered Annie. "It's a muckle M." "I ken naething aboot yer muckle or yer little Ms," retorted Tibbie, with indignation. "Gin that binna what it means, it's ayont me. Read awa'. Maybe we'll come to something better." "Ay will we?" said Annie, and resumed.
'He spak to me first. 'Whaur saw ye him? 'At The Boar's Heid. 'And what richt had ye to gang stan'in' aboot? Ye oucht to ha' gane in at ance. 'But ye budena stop an' mak' ae fule mair. 'Isna that ca'in' names, grannie? ''Deed, laddie, I doobt ye hae me there. But what said the fallow Lumley to ye? 'He cast up to me that my grandfather was naething but a blin' piper. 'And what said ye?
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