But before Floy could speak another person appeared upon the scene—a girl not many years older than herself, neat and trim in dress, and with a bright, intelligent, cheery, though homely face.
She came from the farther end of the hall, carrying a lighted lamp, and, holding it high over her head, peered into the darkness beyond.
“What are you making such a racket about, Patsy Devine? You’ll wake everybody in the house and our Sharp Thorne will give you a prick.” Then catching sight of Floy just stepping aside out of the way of the expressman, who was bringing in the trunk, “Oh! how d’ye do?” she said. “I suppose its—”
“Miss Kemper—”
“Ah, yes, the young lady Aunt Prue—Mrs. Sharp—was expecting. It’s all right.”
The expressman set down the trunk, received his pay, and departed.
Miss Hetty secured the door after him, and turning to Floy, said:
“Breakfast’s about ready to set on the table, so it won’t be worth while for you to climb the stairs till afterwards.”
“I am hardly fit to—”