d 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?"

"The saints protect us, miss--ma'am! Sure, it's the old gentleman
himself--as large as life, indeed. 'Is the missis home?' says he, and
before I can draw breath--'Tell her Mr. Prescott is waitin' on her, and
would like to see the young ladies,' says he. And he sticks his
soakin' umbrella in the corner, and without takin' off his overshoes,
stalks into the livin'-room. 'Humph!' says he, seein' the hole in the
carpet, 'that's dangerous. I like to have broken me neck. Be good
enough to hurry, ma'am,' says he, 'an' don't stand gawpin' at me like a
simpleton.' 'Will ye have a seat, sir?' says I. 'I will, when I want
one,' says he, short-like, and there he stands standin' and starin'
around him, and suckin' at his lips, and kinda talkin' to hisself.
What shall I be tellin' him, ma'am?"

This bomb seemed to have paralyzed the little family.

"I--I--tell him----" stammered Mrs. Prescott, looking piteously at
Nancy for help.

"You'd better go right down, Mother. Why, you look frightened to
death, dear."

"I am. He frightens me dreadfully. I can't bear sarcastic people. Do
go down alone, Nancy,--tell him I have a headache."

"No, no! That wouldn't be wise. What can he say? He may want to be
very nice," said Nancy, reassuringly. "Come along--don't keep him
waiting. Here, just tuck up your hair a bit. Come on, Alma."

Inwardly quaking, but outwardly preserving a dignified composure