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This circular was folded to
about the size and shape of the letter. With the handkerchief he wiped
his face, upon which there were real drops of sweat. The circular he
slipped into his right hand, and then turned toward the strange man
again, to show that he still held the letter. This bit of legerdemain
took about three seconds.
In three seconds more, Bog heard footsteps approaching in the entry.
What if his angel should come to the door? The thought sent a horrible,
sickly sensation all over him, and the solid rock seemed to tremble
beneath his feet.
The door opened, and something quite the opposite of an angel presented
itself. It was Bridget; and her red hair was dishevelled, her face
flushed to the parboiled tint, and her dress uncommonly damp and frowsy.
A mop which she held in her hand explained everything.
"A circular, if you please," said Bog, in a quivering voice, poking the
folded paper at her.
"A succular, is it? Miss Peelbody told me not to take any succulars for
her. So 'way wid ye." Bridget put her hand on the door, and was about to
swing it to.


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