Mr. Tallmadge went out into the hall, and presently reappeared leading Ethan in. He hung back, dropping his curly head, and shooting an occasional look at the newcomer; but since she did not fly at him in the objectionable way of visitors, he allowed himself to be brought by degrees up to the strange lady's chair.
She did not even say "How do you do?" She stooped and kissed him silently. He stared at her with great melancholy eyes, backed away, and stood by his grandfather's side.
"I am afraid he is not strong," said Mrs. Gano, a little huskily.
"He has been singularly free from childish ailments—an occasional cold—"
"Of course, in this trying climate."
"Oh, we find our climate does very well."
"No doubt, in the case of those to the manner born. This child is singularly like his father."
"He reminds us constantly of his mother."
"Is it possible? I assure you I feel, as I look at him, that I have dreamed these twenty years, and that my son is standing there before me."
"You don't say!" remarked the child's grandfather, unmoved. "Everybody here considers him so like the Tallmadges."