“I don't care. I know he'll be a conceited little snippet and I shall hate the sight of him. There! there! Auntie, you mustn't mind me. I told you I was a selfish pig. But don't you ask me to LIKE this precious minister of yours, because I shan't do it. He has no business to come and separate me from the best friend I've got. I'd tell him so if he was here—What was that?”
Both women looked at each other with startled faces. They listened intently.
“Why, wa'n't that funny!” whispered Keziah. “I thought I heard—”
“You DID hear. So did I. What do you suppose—”
“S-s-s-h-h! It sounded from the front room somewhere. And yet there can't be anybody in there, because—My soul! there 'tis again. I'm goin' to find out.”
She grasped the stubby broom by the handle and moved determinedly toward the front hall. Grace seized her by the arm.
“Don't you do it, auntie!” she whispered frantically. “Don't you DO it! It may be a tramp.”
“I don't care. Whoever or whatever it is, it has no business in this house, and I'll make that plain in a hurry. Just like as not it's a cat got in when Elkanah was here this forenoon. Don't be scared, Grace. Come right along.”
The girl came along, but not with enthusiasm. They tiptoed through the dark, narrow hall and peered into the parlor. This apartment was dim and still and gloomy, as all proper parlors should be, but there was no sign of life.
“Humph!” sniffed Keziah. “It might have been upstairs, but it didn't sound so. What did it sound like to you?”