"Father?" said she putting her lips close to the lock, for he was the only one from whom she could expect a call at that late hour. There was no answer. She hesitated a moment, and then opened the door. Hannah Doliver slid in.
Florence stood still, gazing with astonishment on the little wiry form, as it wormed around the apartment, touching the books, and giving sudden pulls at the curtains and bed drapery. She had never seen Hannah over her threshold before, and wondered what a visit from her might import.
"I came to see if you wanted anything, Miss Florence," said the woman, at length, fixing her twinkling eyes on the fair girl's face.
"No!" said Florence, in an impatient tone; "what should I want at this hour, but to be alone?"
"O, I'm not going to intrude upon you but a moment," returned Hannah. "I thought, as you had been out late and 'twas rather cold, you might want a fire lighted in your room, or a cup of warm tea, or something; so I ran up to see." Florence grew more and more astonished. "Have you enjoyed yourself this evening?" asked Hannah.
"Yes," answered Florence briefly.
"I am glad to hear it," returned the woman. "This Col. Mer—— what is his name?" she paused and asked abruptly.
"Malcome," said Florence.
"O, yes! I'm bad at remembering strange names. Well, this Col. Malcome has got some fine children, has he not?"
"Yes," returned Florence; "his daughter is a beautiful girl."