“Elizabeth?”
She told him then all about it. “I fell down under the window—I couldn’t seem to stand up—but I would have stood up if she’d come in—I would have, Tim—but she didn’t come.”
“She didn’t come? Then she didn’t see you—she doesn’t know we’re here?”
“No: it wasn’t for us she came. She’s Miss Fogg’s niece—the one she’s always talked about. Oh, Tim, did you know? Did you know Elizabeth had an old aunt?”
He stared away out of the window a moment, searching his mind. “Yes, she did speak once or twice of an aunt—but not often. She hadn’t seen her for years. I never heard her right name. She called her by a baby name.”
“She called her ‘Tannie,’” Julie said. “It was short for ‘Aunt Annie.’”
“Yes, that was it,” he nodded.
They were silent, their eyes fixed upon each other’s face.
“Oh, Tim, I did it!” Julie broke out. “I brought her right here. It was me made Miss Fogg send the letter. I never rested ’til I got her to. I worked and worked at her ’til I got it sent. I did it.”
“Never mind, never mind, honey. You couldn’t know. How could you? It was my fault, not recollecting. But she didn’t see you?”