Celestina hesitated. So seldom was she addressed by this formal pseudonym that for the instant she was compelled to stop and consider whether the individual designated was on the premises or not.
"Y—e—s," she at last admitted feebly.
"I wonder if I might speak with her," the stranger asked.
"Why don't you tell him you're Miss Morton," coached Willie, in a loud whisper.
But the man on the steps had heard.
"You're not Miss Morton, are you?" he essayed, "Miss Celestina Morton?"
"I expect I am," owned Celestina nervously.
"I'm your brother Elnathan's boy, Bob."
Celestina crumpled weakly against the door frame.
"Nate's boy!" she repeated. "Bless my soul! Bless my soul an' body!"