Chapter II

"Why, Alma," whispered the mother, "who in the world can it be at this

time of night? You don't suppose he--"

"Well, I'm not going to the door, anyhow, mother, I don't care who it is; and, of course, he wouldn't be such a goose as to come at this hour." She put on a look of miserable trepidation, and shrank back from the door, while the hum of the bell died away, in the hall.

A Hazard of New Fortunes/Part Second/Chapter II

"What shall we do?" asked Mrs. Leighton, helplessly.

A Hazard of New Fortunes/Part Second/Chapter II

"Let him go away--whoever they are," said Alma.

A Hazard of New Fortunes/Part Second/Chapter II

Another and more peremptory ring forbade them refuge in this simple

expedient.

"Oh, dear! what shall we do? Perhaps it's a despatch."

The conjecture moved Alma to no more than a rigid stare. "I shall not

go," she said. A third ring more insistent than the others followed, and

she said: "You go ahead, mamma, and I'll come behind to scream if it's

anybody. We can look through the side-lights at the door first."

Mrs. Leighton fearfully led the way from the back chamber where they bad

been sitting, and slowly descended the stairs. Alma came behind and

turned up the hall gas-jet with a sudden flash that made them both jump a

little. The gas inside rendered it more difficult to tell who was on the

threshold, but Mrs. Leighton decided from a timorous peep through the

scrims that it was a lady and gentleman. Something in this distribution

of sex emboldened her; she took her life in her hand, and opened the

door.

The lady spoke. "Does Mrs. Leighton live heah?" she said, in a rich, throaty voice; and she feigned a reference to the agent's permit she held in her hand.

"Yes," said Mrs. Leighton; she mechanically occupied the doorway, while

Alma already quivered behind her with impatience of her impoliteness.

"Oh," said the lady, who began to appear more and more a young lady, "Ah

didn't know but Ah had mistaken the hoase. Ah suppose it's rather late to

see the apawtments, and Ah most ask you to pawdon us." She put this

tentatively, with a delicately growing recognition of Mrs. Leighton as

the lady of the house, and a humorous intelligence of the situation in

the glance she threw Alma over her mother's shoulder. "Ah'm afraid we

most have frightened you."

"Oh, not at all," said Alma; and at the same time her mother said, "Will

you walk in, please?"

The gentleman promptly removed his hat and made the Leightons an

inclusive bow. "You awe very kind, madam, and I am sorry for the trouble

we awe giving you." He was tall and severe-looking, with a gray, trooperish mustache and iron-gray hair, and, as Alma decided, iron-gray eyes. His daughter was short, plump, and fresh-colored, with an effect of liveliness that did not all express itself in her broad-vowelled, rather formal speech, with its odd valuations of some of the auxiliary verbs, and its total elision of the canine letter.

"We awe from the Soath," she said, "and we arrived this mawning, but we

got this cyahd from the brokah just befo' dinnah, and so we awe rathah

late."

"Not at all; it's only nine o'clock," said Mrs. Leighton. She looked up

from the card the young lady had given her, and explained, "We haven't

got in our servants yet, and we had to answer the bell ourselves, and--"

"You were frightened, of coase," said the young lady, caressingly.

The gentleman said they ought not to have come so late, and he offered

some formal apologies.

"We should have been just as much scared any time after five o'clock," Alma said to the sympathetic intelligence in the girl's face.

She laughed out. "Of coase! Ah would have my hawt in my moath all day

long, too, if Ah was living in a big hoase alone."

A moment of stiffness followed; Mrs. Leighton would have liked to

withdraw from the intimacy of the situation, but she did not know how. It

was very well for these people to assume to be what they pretended; but, she reflected too late, she had no proof of it except the agent's permit. They were all standing in the hall together, and she prolonged the awkward pause while she examined the permit. "You are Mr. Woodburn?" she asked, in a way that Alma felt implied he might not be.

"Yes, madam; from Charlottesboag, Virginia," he answered, with the slight

umbrage a man shows when the strange cashier turns his check over and

questions him before cashing it.