Once among houses she rode on leisurely again, and stopped at the post office to enquire for letters,--getting down from her horse, an unusual thing with her. There was a telegraph station connected with the post office, and while the man was searching his mail, she took the slip of paper from her glove, and laid it with some money before the operator. The telegram was directed to that hotel near the Battery, which has already been described. CHAPTER LVII. KITCHEN GOSSIP. The day was passing--that long, terrible day--in which the moments seemed to lengthen themselves into hours, while with every one the gloom about the old house deepened and pressed more heavily down. Grantley Mellen was in his library still, it had been a busy day with him; it appeared as if every creature within reach who could invent a plea of business had chosen that time to trouble him with it. He was alone at last, and that was well; he was literally incapable of enduring any farther self-restraint. He rang the bell and gave strict orders to Dolf: "Let no one else in to-day; I have letters to write; I will not see another human being." Dolf bowed himself out, and took his way to the lower regions, to communicate to Clo and Victoria the commands his master had given. Those three servants kept themselves aloof from the few others employed for tasks which they considered too menial for the dignity of their position, and these gaping youths and girls were strictly forbidden to enter the apartment in which Clo had installed herself. They were perfectly well aware, those three sable dignitaries, that something was wrong in the house; servants always do know when anything out of the common routine happens, and no pretence can blind their watchful eyes. "Marster says he won't see nobody more," said Dolf, as he entered the room where Clo was rolling out her pie-crust, and Victoria busily occupied in watching her. "I wonder what's come over 'em all," said Vic. "Der's missus was a walkin' up an' down like a crazy woman--" "She didn't eat no breakfast," interrupted Dolf, "an' she never teched a thing yesterday; now she's just done gone out a riden' all alone." "An' Miss Elsie stretched out on de sofa, lookin' as if she'd cried her pretty eyes out," went on Victoria. "Says she's got a headache--go 'long; tell dat to blind folks! It's my 'pinion der's more heart-ache under dem looks dan anythin' else." "Dat's jis' what I tink," assented Dolf. Clorinda, from her station at the pastryboard, gave a sniff of doubtful meaning, tossed her head till her frizzed locks shook, brought her rolling-pin down on the board with great energy, and remained silent for the express purpose of being questioned. "What does yer tink 'bout it, Miss Clorindy?" asked Dolf. Vic looked a little spiteful at hearing this appeal to Clo, but she was so anxious for anybody's opinion, that for once she forgot to quarrel.