There was something so human and tender in the sound of the voice that I felt at once drawn to that aged figure, which resembled more a statue than a thing of life.
"Yes, Granny; and I've brought some one with me," the girl said.
A look of something like alarm crossed the old woman's face.
"A stranger?" she said uneasily.
"Yes, dear granny; 'tis a lady from America."
This time the old woman started perceptibly, and her gaze seemed to fix itself on my face, while there was a straightening of her whole figure into rigid attention.
"I have been staying in the neighborhood," I put in; "and chancing to meet your granddaughter—"
"She is no granddaughter of mine!" interrupted the old woman, hastily and, as it seemed, almost angrily. "No, Miss Winifred is not."
"Forgive me, please! I did not know," I stammered. "I thought she addressed you as granny."