"Come up to my parlor, ladies," she invited, wondering what meant this unexpected visit.
"Thank you, Mrs. McVeigh," called Miss Piper, and the two of them ascended the stairs and took the seats which Nancy pushed into the middle of the room, dusting them carefully with her apron as she did so. Miss Piper had shown a kindly feeling to Nancy ever since the death of her brother Tom, and she addressed the tall, grey-haired woman before her with a cordiality of manner and a lack of reserve unusual in her conversations with the commoners of the countryside.
"I hope you are well, Mrs. McVeigh," she began, as she seated herself comfortably.
"I'm not complainin', miss," Nancy answered.
"I've brought my dear friend Miss Trevor with me because we are both very anxious to do a little missionary work for the benefit of a mutual acquaintance whom we are interested in," Miss Piper explained with winning directness.
"Indade, Miss Piper, an' ye think I can help ye, doubtless."
"Yes, we are sure of it. It's Mr. Keene that we wish to speak about."
"Ye mean young John, of course," Nancy interrupted, as a smile gathered slowly over her rugged face.
"Young Mr. Keene, yes. I was his Sunday-school teacher, years ago, but since then, I am afraid, I have lost touch with him, until recently, when Miss Trevor brought him back to my mind."
"It's about his drinking," Miss Piper continued, nervously, as if at a loss to know how to broach the subject without giving offence.