Carrie glanced at the door which led into the outhouse. The tapping of a stick on the stone-flagged floor announced the approach of "Granny" at last. The girl ran to open the door.
Max had sprung up from his chair, full of curiosity to see the old lady of whom Carrie seemed to be somewhat in awe.
He was rather disappointed. There was nothing at all formidable or dignified about Mrs. Higgs, who was a round-shouldered, infirm old woman in a brown dress, a black-and-white check shawl, and a rusty black bonnet.
She stopped short on seeing Max, and proceeded, still standing in the doorway, to scrutinize with candid interest every detail of his appearance. When she had satisfied herself, she waved her stick as an intimation to him that he could sit down again, and, leaning on the arm of the young girl, crossed the room, still without a word, and took her seat in the one arm-chair.
As Carrie had said, there was nothing singular or marked about her face or figure by which one could have distinguished her from the general run of old women of her modest but apparently respectable class. A little thin, whitish hair, parted in the middle, showed under her bonnet; her eyes, of the faded no-color of the old, stared unintelligently out of her hard, wrinkled face; her long, straight, hairy chin, rather hooked nose and thin-lipped mouth made an ensemble which suggested a harmless, tedious old lady who could "nag" when she was not pleased.
Conversation was not her strong point, evidently, or, perhaps, the presence of a stranger made her shy. For, to all Carrie's remarks and inquiries, she vouchsafed only nods in reply, or the shortest of answers in a gruff voice and an ungracious tone.
"Who is he?" she asked at last, when she had begun to sip her cup of tea.
She did not even condescend to look at Max as she made the inquiry.
"A gentleman, Granny—the gentleman I told you of, who came in with me because I was afraid to come in by myself."
"But what's he doing here now? You're not by yourself now."