Alison was in her bedroom.
"Set down, Mr. Hardy," said Grannie, if her cheerful voice. "You've come to see Ally, I suppose?"
"Yes, if I may," answered the young man, an anxious expression on his face.
"To be sure you may; who more welcome? Children, run into my bedroom, dears. I'll turn on the gas and you can study your books in there. Run now, and be quick about it."
"It's so cold," said Polly.
"Tut, tut, not another word; scatter, all of you."
The children longed particularly to stay; they were very fond of Hardy, who generally brought them sweets. Polly's quick eyes had seen a white parcel sticking out of his pocket. It was horrid to have to go into Grannie's bedroom. It was an icy-cold room; just, too, when the kitchen was most enticing. They had to go, however, and Grannie shut the door behind them.
"Poor things, it will be cold for them in there," said the young man.
"Tut, tut," answered Grannie again, "you don't want 'em to be brought up soft and lazy and good for naught. Now then, Jim, set down and make yourself at home."
"How is she?" asked Hardy, speaking in a low voice, and raising his handsome eyes to the old lady's face.