"I am Ellen Montgomery, Sir," said Ellen, eagerly, "Miss
Fortune's niece I live here."
"Stop a bit," said the old man, taking up his saddle-bags; "Miss Fortune's niece, eh? Well, I believe as I've got somethin' for her somethin' here. Aunt well, eh?"
"Yes, Sir."
"That's more than you be, ain't it?" said he, glancing sideways at Ellen's face. "How do you know but I've got a letter for you here, eh?"
The colour rushed to that face, and she clasped her hands.
"No, dear, no," said he; "I han't got any for you it's for the old lady; there, run in with it, dear."
But Ellen knew before she touched it that it was a foreign letter, and dashed into the house with it. Miss Fortune coolly sent her back to pay the postage.
When she came in again, her aunt was still reading the letter.
But her look, Ellen felt, was unpromising. She did not venture
to speak expectation was chilled. She stood till Miss
Fortune began to fold up the paper.
"Is there nothing for me?" she said then, timidly.
"No."