"An' whey we gwine to set de dinner table, w'en de dinin' room is all took up long ob de weddin' feas' spread out on dat yonder stension table? We ain't got time to take all de fings offen dat!"
"No, indeed, you have not. You had better lock up the dining room, just as it stands, to wait your mistress' orders, and set the table in the sitting room."
Having given her last instructions, Miss Meeke returned to the drawing room, where she found the new guest, extended at length on the blue, velvet sofa, with her chubby hands clasped under her head on one end and her stoutly booted feet elevated on the other. She was fast asleep and snoring sonorously.
Wynnette and Elva were standing gazing on her, with their faces full of guilty fear.
"What is the matter here?" inquired the governess.
"Oh, Miss Meeke," exclaimed Wynnette, "I'm afraid she's half seas over! I mean--I mean----"
"Elva, do you tell me what is all this--if you know," said the governess, seeing that Wynnette had broken down in her attempt to explain.
"Oh, Miss Meeke," said Elva, taking up the thread of the discourse, "when we finished playing the duet, she there on the sofa asked for a glass of wine, and Wynnette and I went ourselves to get it for her, and we went into the dining room, where the beautiful wedding table is set out and all the wines in cut-glass decanters on the sideboard. And--and--I am afraid--I know--we made a mistake and poured out a claret glass full of cognac brandy and brought it to her."
"Every drop! And she said it was proof brandy, and worth a bottle of common stuff! And then she talked a good deal, and then she lay down on the sofa, and went to sleep."
"I am very sorry. My dears, you should never meddle with the decanters. You should have called Jacob, who would have known what to bring."
"But Jake was not in reach. He was away down in the stable yard, talking to a crowd of grooms and other men and boys. I saw him through the back windows, and I knew he was telling them all about what happened in the church. Oh, Miss Meeke, do you think she will die? Oh, just hear how she snores! Will she wake up in fits?" cried Elva, in fright.
"No, my dear," said the governess, looking attentively upon the woman. "No; don't be alarmed. I think her condition is as much the effect of reaction from fatigue and excitement as of the brandy. Besides, she is wearing a tight dress, and lying in a cramped position, all of which obstructs her breathing. We must wake her up."