"
"Mr. Delafield is telling her something. I know it is dreadful." Eleanor
sank upon the sofa, dragging Mary Taylor with her. "Oh, I shall die if you
don't tell me right off what _has_ happened, Mary."
"Not a word shall you hear until you can control yourself," declared Miss
Taylor, wresting herself away from the nervous grasp, and running over to
the door she closed it. "Now then, Nell, are you a sensible girl?"--coming
back.
Eleanor flung herself down on the sofa, and sobbed:
"Oh, I know Larry is dead and you are trying to keep it from me."
"Larry is not dead," said Mary Taylor.
"Well, he is terribly hurt," said Eleanor, between her sobs. "Oh dear, my
only brother, Larry!"
Mary Taylor got down on her knees by the sofa, and took the poor head up to
let her own tears fall over it.
"Why, you are crying yourself," exclaimed Eleanor, feeling the drops
trickle down her neck. "And you told me not to. Why, Mary Taylor!"
"Of course I am," said Mary. "Now see here: we are both of us very wrong to
give way in this fashion; we ought to be seeing to your mother. Get up,
Eleanor," and she sprang to her feet. "There, that's right. Come on."
Some one rapped at the side door, and the confusion in the house calling
the maids from their duty, the butler belonging to the establishment of the
next neighbor, Mrs. Sterling, popped in his head.
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