46/49 The hens flew up with a great clamor and whir of wings; Mrs.Sloane's shrill, mocking laugh arose above it. She began talking in a high-pitched voice, flinging out vituperations which would seem to patter against the closed door like bullets. Suddenly she stopped, as if her ire had failed her, and listened intently to a low murmur from the other room. She nodded her head when it ceased. They stood consulting together in low voices, and Mrs.Sloane listened. |