"No, sir," replied Hannah.
"Not in?"
"No, sir. She's gone out."
By this time Mr. Bebee stood within the vestibule.
"O, well; I reckon I'll just drop in and wait awhile. No doubt she'll be home, soon."
"I don't think she will return before two o'clock," said Hannah, knowing that her mistress, looking more like a scarecrow than a genteel lady, was still in the parlor, and seeing that the visiter was disposed to pass her by and make himself a temporary occupant of the same room.
"No matter," returned the gentleman, "I'll just step in for a little while and enjoy myself by the parlor fire. It's a bitter cold day—perhaps she will be home sooner."
"O, no, sir. She told me that she would not come back until dinner-time," said the anxious Hannah, who fully appreciated the dilemma in which her mistress would find herself, should Mr. Bebee make his way into the parlor.
"It's no consequence. You can just say to her, if she does not return while I am here, that I called and made myself at home for half an hour or so." And with this, Mr. Bebee passed by the girl, and made his way towards the parlor.
In despair, Hannah ran back to her place in the kitchen, wondering what her mistress would say or do when Mr. Bebee found that she was at home—and, moreover, in such a plight!