She at once announced the good news that Dale had not only been
reinstated, but given a couple of weeks' holiday; and Ridgett,
genuinely delighted, squeezed both her hands.
"That's something like. Here, let me carry this upstairs for you."
"No, thank you, please don't trouble. I can manage."
Mr. Allen, the saddler, had come across from his shop, and she told
him the good news too. Mr. Allen hurried down the street to tell
others. Soon the whole village knew that Mr. Dale had triumphed, and
that the Postmaster-General was granting him leave of absence as a
special mark of favor.
Mary clapped her hands on hearing the good news, and was rapturously
pleased at seeing her mistress home again; but she immediately
required explanations.
"Oh, lor, mum, whatever have you done to yourself?"
"I have had an accident," said Mrs. Dale. "I fell down--and it has
given me a bad headache. I don't want any tea. I shall go to bed
early, and try to get a good sleep."
And in truth, she was longing to sleep. After the terrible ordeal of
yesterday sleep seemed to be the one good thing left in the world for
her. But, notwithstanding supreme fatigue, sleep would not come.
Throughout that first night, and again on succeeding nights, she
struggled beneath a suffocating burden of anxiety.
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