The old lady merely turned away her head.
"Gran'ma, he isn't dead?"
"No, not exactly dead," she said, very low.
"He is very ill?"
"No. He is gone again to France."
"But I thought he was coming here for sure this time?"
"So did I; not so Aaron Tallmadge!"
The name swept out like a sudden gust, scattering to the winds her unnatural calm.
"But you said he was nearly of age, when he would be his own master."
"Aaron Tallmadge remembered that." Her lips trembled with anger, and the big chair seemed to share her agitation. She held on to the red padded arms, as though she rocked on the high seas in a gale. "When Ethan comes of age he'll be five thousand miles away."