"When it was all over they let me go, and I carried the rest of my flowers to the lady who had ordered them. It was getting late when I went back; I lost my way; a gentleman stood looking into a window at the corner of some street; I asked him to tell me the way home without looking in his face; he turned. It was Mr. Leicester; he would go home with me; I did not like it, and would rather have been lost in the streets all night; but all that I could say against it did no good. He followed me home, down the basement steps, and to the door of grandfather's room. There was no light in the room; and while grandpa was kindling a match, Mr. Leicester went away. I do not know how, but when the candle was lighted I looked round for him, and he was gone!"
"Did you tell your grandfather that he had followed you?"
"Yes, I always tell grandfather everything!"
"So you told him that this man had followed you home against your will?"
"Yes, I told him."
"Was he angry?"
"My grandfather never is angry!"
"But what did he say?"
"Nothing particular. He kept his arm around me a good while, I remember, as I was warming myself, and seemed to feel sorrowful about something. He asked several questions about the man, how he looked, and what he said."
"And was that all he said or did?"