"Ah, now, don't say that," remonstrated Hannah, who had no idea what "provincial" meant, and was consequently convinced that it must mean something very bad indeed. "Bless my soul! There's the bell—now who could be comin' here on a day like this?"
The door-bell had indeed been rung fiercely, and a second ring followed impatiently upon the first. Hannah vanished.
"Who in the world——" wondered Nancy.
"Sh! It's some man."
Alma sprang up, and running out into the hall leaned curiously over the bannister. In a moment she returned, looking as if she had seen a ghost, her mouth open, and her eyes popping.
"Nancy! Mother! I think it's Uncle Thomas!"
"Nonsense!" But Nancy too scrambled to her feet and stood listening with suspended breath. "Mother——!"
"No, my dear—it—it couldn't be!" Mrs. Prescott had turned quite pale. "It must be just some tradesman. See—there's Hannah now."
But Hannah's face confirmed the dazing suspicion. Without even announcing the stupifying news, she leaned weakly against the doorway, and pressed her hand to her ample bosom, signifying an overwhelming agitation.
"Who is it, Hannah?"