“Oh!” she cried, stepping back into the shadows.
“I’ve been expecting you, Miss Fox. Will you come in?” he cordially invited.
“You were expecting me? But I–––”
Hardly knowing what she did, and certainly not realizing why she did it, she accepted the invitation and entered. Her eyes slowly widened as he closed the door. She stood poised like a wild thing ready for flight at the slightest warning.
“I trust that your father isn’t ill again?” said the minister solicitously.
“No-o. That is, not yet. He’s quite well, thank you. He isn’t home, or wasn’t when I left.”
“I’m glad.”
“I beg your pardon?”
“I’m glad your father isn’t ill,” he explained, growing quite as embarrassed as she.