It was a long time before Grandfather answered her pounding.
"It's Ellen," she called, when at last she heard his hand on the latch. "It's very late, I know."
Grandfather opened the door. He was dazed; the moonlight was not bright enough to make her outline clear.
"May I stay here to-night?"
He neither greeted her nor answered her.
"It is Ellen, Grandfather."
"Ellen?" He repeated a word without meaning.
"May I stay here to-night?"
He seemed now to see her, but he regarded her as though she were a jinn or spook or other baleful creature of the witching night.
"I never turned any one away," he said at last in a gentle tone.