“Well, little Annie?”
“I am going to be married, to Mr. Von Rosen.”
Alice started ever so slightly. “You are a lucky girl,” she whispered, “and he is a lucky man.”
Alice flickered out of sight down the street like a white moonbeam and Annie stole into the house. She dared not lock the door behind her lest she arouse somebody. She tip-toed upstairs, but as she was passing her grandmother's door, it was opened, and the old woman stood there, her face lit by her flaring candle.
“You just march right in here,” said she so loud that Annie shuddered for fear she would arouse the whole house. She followed her grandmother into her room and the old woman turned and looked at her, and her face was white.
“Where have you been, Miss?” said she. “It is after three o'clock in the morning.”
“I had to go, grandmother, and there was no harm, but I can't tell you. Indeed, I can't,” replied Annie, trembling.
“Why can't you? I'd like to know.”
“I can't, indeed, I can't, grandmother.”
“Why not, I'd like to know. Pretty doings, I call it.”