The Red Eric | Page 6

perplexing. I'm
sure I don't know how I shall bear it. It is too bad of George-- darling
Ailie--(dear me, Jane, how crookedly you have placed the urn)-- it is
really too bad."
"Too bad, indeed; yes, isn't it?" echoed Jane, in reference to the
captain's conduct, while she assisted Martha, who had risen to readjust
the urn.
"Oh!" exclaimed Martha, with a look of horror.
"What?" cried Jane, who looked and felt equally horrified, although she
knew not yet the cause.

"The eggs!"
"The eggs?"
"Yes, the eggs. You know every one of the last dozen we got was bad,
and we've forgot to send for more," said Martha.
"For more; so we have!" cried Jane; and both ladies rushed into the
kitchen, gave simultaneous and hurried orders to the servant-girl, and
sent her out of the house impressed with an undefined feeling that life
or death depended on the instant procuring of two dozen fresh eggs.
It may be as well to remark here, that the Misses Dunning, although
stiff, and starched, and formal, had the power of speeding nimbly from
room to room, when alone and when occasion required, without in the
least degree losing any of their stiffness or formality, so that we do not
use the terms "rush," "rushed," or "rushing" inappropriately.
Nevertheless, it may also be remarked that they never acted in a rapid
or impulsive way in company, however small in numbers or
unceremonious in character the company might be--always excepting
the servant-girl and the cat, to whose company, from long habit, they
had become used, and therefore indifferent.
The sisters were on their knees, stuffing various articles into a large
trunk, and Ailie was looking on, by way of helping, with very red and
swollen eyes, and the girl was still absent in quest of eggs, when a
succession of sounding blows were administered to the green door, and
a number of gruff voices were heard conversing without.
"There!" cried Martha and Jane, with bitter emphasis, looking in each
other's faces as if to say, "We knew it. Before that girl was sent away
for these eggs, we each separately and privately prophesied that they
would arrive, and that we should have to open the door. And you see,
so it has happened, and we are not ready!"
But there was no time for remark. The case was desperate. Both sisters
felt it to be so, and acted accordingly, while Ailie, having been
forbidden to open the door, sat down on her trunk, and looked on in

surprise. They sprang up, washed their hands simultaneously in the
same basin, with the same piece of soap broken in two; dried them with
the same towel, darted to the mirror, put on two identically similar
clean tall caps, leaped down-stairs, opened the door with slow dignity
of demeanour, and received their visitors in the hall with a calmness
and urbanity of manner that contrasted rather strangely with their
flushed countenances and heaving bosoms.
"Hallo! Ailie!" exclaimed the captain, as his daughter pulled down his
head to be kissed. "Why, you take a fellow all aback, like a white squall.
Are you ready, my pet? Kit stowed and anchor tripped? Come this way,
and let us talk about it. Dear me, Martha, you and Jane--look as if you
had been running a race, eh? Here are my messmates come to talk a bit
with you. My sisters, Martha and Jane--Dr Hopley." (Dr Hopley bowed
politely.) "My first mate, Mr Millons" (Mr Millons also bowed,
somewhat loosely); "and Rokens--Tim Rokens, my chief harpooner."
(Mr Rokens pulled his forelock, and threw back his left leg, apparently
to counterbalance the bend in his body.) "He didn't want to come; said
he warn't accustomed to ladies' society; but I told him you warn't
ladies--a--I don't mean that--not ladies o' the high-flyin' fashionable sort,
that give themselves airs, you know. Come along, Ailie."
While the captain ran on in this strain, hung up his hat, kissed Ailie,
and ran his fingers through his shaggy locks, the Misses Dunning
performed a mingled bow and courtsey to each guest as his name was
mentioned, and shook hands with him, after which the whole party
entered the parlour, where the cat was discovered enjoying a
preliminary meal of its own at one of the pats of butter. A united shriek
from Martha and Jane, a nautical howl from the guests, and a rolled-up
pocket-handkerchief from Rokens sent that animal from the table as if
it had received a galvanic shock.
"I ax yer parding, ladies," said Mr Rokens, whose aim had been so
perfect that his handkerchief not only accelerated the flight of the cat,
but carried away the violated pat of butter along with it. "I ax yer
parding, but them brutes is sich