Martha Holden, the house-servant, was busy making herself a cap as her
mistress came into the kitchen, droning some Hampshire ballad by way of
accompaniment to her work. Sarah Batts was seated in an attitude of
luxurious repose, with her arms folded, and her feet on the fender.
"Was it either of you girls that screamed just now?" Ellen asked
anxiously.
"Screamed, ma'am! no, indeed," Martha Holden answered, with an air of
perfect good faith. "What should we scream for? I've been sitting here
at my work for the last hour, as quiet as could be."
"And, Sarah,--was it you, Sarah? For goodness' sake tell the truth."
"Me, mum! lor no, mum. I was up with master showing him and the strange
gentleman a light."
"You were upstairs with your master? And did you hear nothing? A piercing
shriek that rang through the house;--you must surely have heard it, both
of you."
Martha shook her head resolutely.
"Not me, mum; I didn't hear a sound. The kitchen-door was shut all the
time Sarah was away, and I was busy at work, and thinking of nothing but
my work. I wasn't upon the listen, as you may say."
The kitchen was at the extreme end of the house, remote from that
direction whence the unexplainable cry seemed to have come.
"It is most extraordinary," Ellen said gravely, perplexed beyond all
measure.
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