Light O' the Morning: The Story of an Irish Girl by L. T. Meade (best chinese ebook reader .TXT) 📕

came the welcome signal from Molly's room. Nora struck a light and began to dress feverishly. In ten minutes she was once more in her clothes. She now put on the dark-gray traveling dress she had worn when coming to The Laurels. Her hat and jacket were quickly put on, and, carrying the little black bag, she entered Molly's room.

“What hour is it?” said Nora. “It must be long past midnight.”

“Oh, no; nothing of the kind. It is not more than eleven o'clock.”

“Oh! I thought it was one or two. Do you know that your mother came to see me and insisted on my getting into bed?”

“You were a great goose, Nora. You should have lain down as I did, in your clothes; that would have saved a little time. But come, mother has been quite quiet for half an hour and more; she must be sound asleep. We had better go.”

“Yes, we had better go,” said Nora. “I packed a few things in this bag; it is quite light, and I can carry it. My money is in it, too—eight shillings and fivepence. I do trust Stephanotie will be able to lend us the rest.”

Molly had not been idle while Nora was in her room. She had taken care to oil the hasp of the window; and now, with extreme caution, she lifted it up, taking care that it did not make the slightest sound as she did so. The next moment both girls were seated on the window-ledge. Molly sprang on to the pear-tree, which creaked and crackled under her weight; but Mrs. Hartrick was already in the land of dreams. Molly dropped on to the ground beneath, and then it was Nora's turn.

“Shall I shut the window before I get on to the pear-tree?” whispered Nora.

“No, no; leave it open. Come just as you are.”

Nora reached out her arms, grasped the pear tree, and slipped down to the ground.

“Now then, we must be off,” said Molly. “I hope Pilot won't bark.” She was alluding to the big watchdog. “But there, I'll speak to him; he is very fond of me.”

The girls stole across the grass. The dew lay heavy on it; their footsteps made no sound. Presently they reached the front of the house, and Pilot, with a deep bay, flew to meet them.

“Pilot! Pilot! quiet; good dog!” said Molly. She went on her knees, flung her arms round the dog, and began to whisper in his ear.

“He understands,” she said, looking up at Nora. The great creature seemed to do so; he wagged his feathery tail from side to side and accompanied the girls as far as the gate.

“Now, go home, go home,” said Molly. She then took Nora's hand, and they ran down the road in the direction of the village.

“If it were not that you are so miserable I should enjoy this awfully,” said Molly.

“But how do you mean to wake Stephie?” asked Nora at last.

“Well, luckily for us, her aunt, Miss Truefitt, is rather deaf. Miss Truefitt has a bedroom at the back of the house, and Stephanotie sleeps in front. I shall fling gravel at the window. There is not a soul, as you see, in the streets. It's well that it is such a quiet place; it will serve our purpose all the better.”

They now found themselves outside Miss Truefitt's house. Molly took up a handful of gravel and flung it in a great shower at Stephanotie's window. Both girls then waited eagerly for a response. At first there was none; once again Molly threw the gravel.

“I do hope she will wake soon,” she said, turning to Nora; “that gravel makes a great noise, and some of the neighbors may pop out their heads to see what is the matter. There! I saw a flicker of light in the room. She is thinking it is thieves; she won't for a single moment imagine that we are here. I do hope Miss Truefitt won't awaken; it will be all up with us if she does.”

“No, no, it won't,” said Nora; “there's not a person in this place I could not get to help me in a cause like this. The one who is absolutely invulnerable, who cannot be moved, because she imagines herself to be right, is your mother.”

“There's Stephie at the window now,” said Molly. A little figure in a night-dress was seen peeping out.

“It's us, Stephie. Let us in; it's most awfully important,” whispered Molly's voice in deep sepulchral tones from below.

“But say, what's the matter?” called Stephanotie, opening her window and popping out her curly head.

“I can't talk to you in the street. Slip down and open the hall-door and let us in,” said Molly. “It's most vital.”

“It's life or death,” whispered Nora. There was something in Nora's tremulous tones which touched Stephanotie, and at the same time stimulated her curiosity to such an extent that she flew into her clothes, dashing about perfectly reckless of the fact that she was making a loud noise; but, luckily for her, Miss Truefitt was deaf and the servants slept in a remote part of the old house. Soon Stephanotie was tumbling downstairs, the chain was taken off the door, and the two girls were admitted.

“Where shall I take you?” said Stephanotie. “It's all as dark as pitch. You know Aunt Vi won't hear of gas in the house. But stay, we can go into the dining room. I suppose you can tell me by the light of a solitary glim.” As she spoke she pointed to the candle which she was holding high above her head.

“Yes, yes, or with no light at all,” said Nora.

Stephanotie now opened the door of the dining room, and the three girls entered. Stephanotie placed the candle on the table and turned and faced them.

“Well,” she said, “what's up? What do you want me to do?”

“I want you to lend me all the money you have,” said Nora.

“All the money I have—good gracious!”

“Oh, Jehoshaphat! be quick about it,” said Molly. “We cannot stand here talking; we want to catch the very next train to town.”

“But why should I lend you all the money I have?”

“Oh, I'll tell her, Nora; don't you speak,” said Molly. “Nora's father has been awfully hurt; he was shot at from behind a hedge by some scoundrel in Ireland. A telegram came to-day about him to mother, and mother won't take Nora to Ireland unless her father is in danger, and Nora is determined to go.”

“I guess I'd about do the same,” said Stephanotie, nodding her head. “If poppa was shot at from behind a hedge, I guess there's nothing would keep me away from him. But is it for that you want the money?”

“Yes,” said Nora, plunging her hands into the depths of her black bag; “there's only eight