"Don't keer; we comin' back," said Tasma Tid.
"Yes, come back," said Mrs. Lumsden; whereupon, the African whisked out of the room as quick as a flash.
After Tasma Tid had gone, a silence fell on the house—a silence so profound that Nan could hear the great clock ticking in the front hall, and the bookshelves cracked just as they do in the middle of the night.
"If I had known what was going to happen when Gabriel came and kissed me good-bye," said Mrs. Lumsden, after awhile, "I would have gone out there where those men were, and—well, I don't know what I wouldn't have done!"
"Didn't Gabriel tell you? Why——" Nan paused.
"Not he! Not Gabriel!" cried Mrs. Lumsden in a voice full of pride. "He wanted to spare his grandmother one night's worry, and he did."
"Didn't you know when he kissed you good-night that something was wrong?" Nan inquired.
"How should I? Why, he sometimes comes and kisses me in the middle of the night, even after he has gone to bed. He says he sleeps better afterwards."
What was there in this simple statement to cause Nan to catch her breath, and seize the hand that was caressing her. For one thing, it presented the tender side of Gabriel's nature in a new light; and for the rest—well, who shall pretend to fathom a young woman's heart?
"Yes, he was always doing something of that kind," remarked the grandmother proudly; "and I have often thought that he should have been a girl."