midnight
`` A telegram to Mr. Helbeck ? '' Polly , surprised at so much ignorance , could not forego the sensation that it offered her . She bit her lip , but the lip would speak . So the story of the midnight telegram -- as it had been told by that godly man Mr. Cawston of Braeside to that other godly man Mr. Bayley , perpetual curate of Browhead , and as by now it had gone all about the country-side -- came piecemeal out . `` Oh ! an at that Papist shop i ' th ' High Street -- you remember that sickly-lukin fellow at the dance -- they do say at they do taak shameful ! '' exclaimed Polly indignantly .