"No, Miss Fortune," said the voice of Ellen's charioteer, "I've brought you something better than that."
"Where did you find her?" said Miss Fortune, something shortly.
"A trunk! It must go up stairs; but how it is ever to get there, I am sure I don't know."
"I'll find a way to get it there, I'll engage, if you'll be so good as to open the door for me, Maam."
"Indeed you won't! That'll never do! With your shoes!" said Miss Fortune, in a tone of indignant housewifery.
"Well, without my shoes, then," said Mr. Van Brunt, with a half-giggle, as Ellen heard the shoes kicked off. "Now, Maam, out of my way! give me a road."
Miss Fortune seized the lamp, and, opening another door, ushered Mr. Van Brunt and the trunk out of the kitchen, and up Ellen saw not whither. In a minute or two they returned, and he of the ox-cart went out.
"Supper's just ready, Mr. Van Brunt," said the mistress of the house.
"Can't stay, Maam it's so late; must hurry home." And he closed the door behind him.
"What made you so late?" asked Miss Fortune of Ellen.
"I don't know, Maam I believe Mr. Van Brunt said the blacksmith had kept him."
Miss Fortune bustled about a few minutes in silence, setting some things on the table, and filling the tea-pot.
"Come," she said to Ellen, "take off your coat and come to the table. You must be hungry by this time. It's a good while since you had your dinner, ain't it? Come, mother."
The old lady rose, and Miss Fortune, taking her chair, set it by the side of the table, next the fire. Ellen was opposite to her, and now, for the first time, the old lady seemed to know that she was in the room. She looked at her very attentively, but with an expressionless gaze which Ellen did not like to meet, though otherwise her face was calm and pleasant.
"Who is that?" inquired the old lady presently of Miss Fortune, in a half whisper.
"That's Morgan's daughter," was the answer.
"Morgan's daughter! Has Morgan a daughter?"
"Why, yes, mother; don't you remember I told you a month ago he was going to send her here?"
The old lady turned again, with a half shake of her head, towards Ellen. "Morgan's daughter," she repeated to herself, softly, "she's a pretty little girl very pretty. Will you come round here and give me a kiss, dear?"