She was expecting Betty, she had been expecting the girl for the past hour. For an hour Mrs. Hanson had sat there listening for coming footsteps but hearing only the steady persistent 'tick-tock' of the long cased clock.
During that hour Mrs. Hanson had been thinking, she had been asking of herself questions, and as the minutes passed the stern old face grew graver and grimmer.
Why should he be willing to give to Betty and herself such a mort of money. Why should he be wishful of sending Betty to some far off place. Why should Mr. Allan Homewood interest himself in the very least with the future of Betty Hanson at all?
Questions that Mrs. Hanson could not answer satisfactorily.
"A very pleasant and outspoken young gentleman he du seem—and yet——" Mrs. Hanson shook her head. "And yet——"
But the long expected footsteps were sounding, there came a tapping on the door. That in itself was unfamiliar. In the old days Betty lifted the latch and came in.
Betty came to-night as a visitor, and Mrs. Hanson realised the difference.
"Come in," she said, and rose stiffly to receive her visitor. Betty came in nervously; she looked at her grandmother, hesitated and then came forward and offered a soft cheek.
"You will hev had your tea?"
"Yes grandmother."