“Nothing,” said Ellen. “Why?”
“You look queer. Has anything happened?”
“Yes, something has happened.”
“What?”
Andrew turned pale. He stood in the entry with his snowy broom in hand, staring from one to the other.
“Nothing that you need worry about,” said Ellen. “I'll tell you when I get my dress changed.”
Ellen pulled off her rubbers, and went up-stairs to her chamber. Fanny and Andrew stood looking at each other.
“You don't suppose—” whispered Andrew.
“Suppose what?” responded Fanny, sharply.
They continued to look at each other. Fanny answered Andrew as if he had spoken, with that jealous pride for her girl's self-respect which possessed her even before the girl's father.