“Alone? Wasn’t your grandfather with you?”
“Yes,” said Helen, casting down her eyes. “He would come home to meals; but he had to attend to his business.”
“He seems too old and infirm to be able to do much,” said Mrs. Gregory, compassionately.
Helen was about to disclaim the age and infirmity, when the thought of the near relation in which Armstrong stood to her came over her mind in time, and she only answered, “Yes, ma’am.”
“How long since your grandmother died?”
This, too, was an embarrassing question for Helen; but the necessity of saying something prompted her to reply, “A good while.”
Perceiving, though she could not conjecture why, that her questions confused Helen, Mrs. Gregory desisted.
It was about four o’clock on the succeeding afternoon that Mrs. Gregory, who was sitting at the window, detected the bent form of the assumed old man slowly making his way up the hill.
“Your grandfather is coming,” said she to Helen, who sat beside her.