"I had just got my album," she added, "when, feeling some one was in
the room, I turned round--and there (she indicated a spot on the
carpet) was the piper, not ten paces away from me, regarding me with
the most awful look imaginable. I was too taken aback with surprise to
say anything, nor--for some unaccountable reason--could I escape,
before he touched me on the shoulder with one of his icy cold hands,
and then commenced playing. Up and down the floor he paced, backwards
and forwards, never taking his hateful glance off my face and ever
piping the same dismal dirge. At last, unable to stand the strain of
it any longer, and convinced he was a madman, bent on murdering
me--for who but a lunatic would behave in such a way?--I gave way to a
violent fit of hysterics, and fainted. Now tell me who he was, and why
he was permitted to frighten me in this manner?" And Mary stamped her
feet and grew vicious, as only her class will when they are at all
vexed. Her speech was followed by a silence that exasperated her. She
repeated her inquiries with crimson cheeks, and then, as again no one
responded, she signalled out the head footman and raved at him. Up to
this point Mr. Whittingen had been dumb with amazement. The idea of a
strange piper having the twofold effrontery to enter his house and
proceed to the private and chaste sanctuary of his highly respectable
daughters, almost deprived him of breath. He could scarcely believe
his ears. "What--what in the name of--what does it all mean?" he at
length stammered, addressing the unfortunate footman.
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