Bundle, her red cheeks absolutely blanched by
the vision she had conjured up. Why, I cannot say, but she had fully
made up her mind that when I was brought home dead, as she believed
that, sooner or later, I was pretty sure to be, I should be brought to
the side-door. Now "the side-door," as it was called, was a little
door leading into the garden, and less used, perhaps, than any other
door in the house. Mrs. Bundle, I believe, had decided that in that
tragedy which she was constantly rehearsing, the men who should find
my body would avoid the front-door, to spare my father the sudden
shock of meeting my corpse. The side-door, too, was just below the
nursery windows. Mrs. Bundle herself, would, probably, be the first to
hear any knocking at it, and she naturally pictured herself as taking
a prominent part in the terrible scene she so often fancied. It was
perhaps a good thing, on the whole, that she chose this door in
preference to those in constant use, otherwise every ring or knock at
the front or back door must have added greatly to her anxieties.
I fear I did not do much to relieve them. I rather aggravated them.
Partly I believe in the conceit of showing off my own skill and
daring, and partly by way of "hardening" Mrs.
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