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Updated: June 25, 2025
The dwarf was no longer at the telescope, and the silence in the region dedicated to Mrs. Merillia's menials was profound. The night, too, was clear and starry, propitious for prophetic labours, and as the Prophet gazed out upon the deserted square through the open window a strange peace descended upon his fevered soul.
"And now bring me a sandwich, a glass of toast and water and a fan, if you please. Yes, put the footstool well under me." "Dearest grannie," said the Prophet, when the men had retired, "are you in great pain?" "No, Hennessey. Are you?" Mrs. Merillia's green eyes twinkled. "Yes, at my accident. For my ankle is sprained, I'm almost sure, and I shall have to lie up presently in wet bandages.
Merillia's devoted, but occasionally disconcerting, maid, swathed her mistress's ankle in bandages previously steeped in cold water and in vinegar. Mrs. Merillia's accident made a very deep impression upon the Prophet's mind. He thought it over carefully, and desired to discuss it in all its bearings with Mrs. Fancy Quinglet, who had been his confidante for full thirty years. Mrs.
Malkiel nodded, held Mr. Ferdinand's clothes tighter, and stole on, as he thought, without making a sound. What was his horror, then, just as he was passing Mrs. Merillia's door, to hear a voice cry, "Hennessey! Hennessey!" Gustavus and Malkiel stopped dead, as if they had both been shot. They now perceived that the door was partially open, and that a faint light shone within the room.
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