“I don't know,” replied Amabel. Then she stood still, as before, holding the lamp.
Robert began to wonder what he was to do, when he heard a woman's voice calling from the sitting-room at the end of the hall, the door of which had been left ajar:
“Amabel Tenny, what are you doin'? You are coldin' the house all off! Who is it?”
“It's a man, Aunt Fanny,” called Amabel.
“Who is the man?” asked the voice. Then, much to Robert's relief, Fanny herself appeared.
She colored a flaming red when she saw him. She looked at Amabel as if she had an impulse to shake her.
“Why, Mr. Lloyd, is it you?” she cried.
“Good-evening, Mrs. Brewster; is—is your daughter at home?” asked Robert. He felt inclined to roar with laughter, and yet a curious dismay was beginning to take possession of him.
“Yes, Ellen is at home,” replied Fanny, with alacrity. “Walk in, Mr. Lloyd.” She was blushing and smiling as if she had been her own daughter. It was foolish, yet pathetic. Although Fanny asked the young man to walk in, and snatched the lamp peremptorily from Amabel's hand, she still hesitated. Robert began to wonder if he should ever be admitted. He did not dream of the true reason for the hesitation. There was no fire in the parlor, and in the sitting-room were Andrew, John Sargent, and Mrs. Wetherhed. It seemed to her highly important that Ellen should see her caller by herself, but how to take him into that cold parlor?
Finally, however, she made up her mind to do so. She opened the parlor door.