"Where is Ethan?" said her father, turning suddenly from the window.
"I'll go and bring him," replied Miss Hannah, and she left the room with haste.
A few moments, and the door opened again. Mrs. Gano came in with an air that seemed to Aaron Tallmadge suspiciously gracious. She paused for just that decisive but infinitesimal moment of first impression, as she took the measure of the spare figure standing on guard in the middle of his prim New England parlor.
"Mr. Tallmadge?" inquired Mrs. Gano, suavely.
"Mrs. Gano?"
He offered his hand, and then pushed a straight-backed horse-hair chair a little nearer the fire. In the mere speaking of her name his twang made instant attack upon the Southerner's nerves. It passed through the man's mind presently that Mrs. Gano's voice was disagreeably reminiscent of a runaway slave he had once befriended.
"I have just seen my grandson's face at an upper window." She looked round eagerly. "Ah!"
The door had opened very slowly. One eye and half a little dark head were put doubtfully in.
"Come here, Ethan!" said his grandfather.
The child disappeared altogether.