As fast as she could the dear old lady hurried along the lonely country road. The little, stifled sarcastic laugh was still sounding in her ears, a laugh that spoke of a heart unchanged except as trouble had soured it.
At last she heard footsteps—light ones—she could see a woman's form! Yes, it was her dear Phebe, and, thank God, she was alone!
"Why, Nanna!" exclaimed Phebe, as soon as she recognised her; "whatever brought you out a night like this?"—kissing her on the cheek and taking hold of her arm.
"To take care of you, dearie, to be sure; and, besides, I wanted a walk."
"On a night like this?"
"Yes, I felt stifled like," which was quite true.
Phebe's suspicions were aroused, but finding all well at home, concluded it was just some whim of the dear old soul's, or else she had suddenly been seized with some unaccountable fear, as is sometimes the case even with young folks.