hands, she said:

"Empty these in their boxes, dear, while I speak to Mr. Brudenell." Then
turning to the young man, she said: "Sir, your mother, I believe, has
asked to see me about some cloth she wishes to have woven. I am going
over to her now; will you go with me?"

"Certainly, Hannah," replied Mr. Brudenell, seizing his hat in nervous
trepidation, and forgetting or not venturing to bid good-by to Nora.

When they had got a little way from the hut, Hannah said:

"Mr. Brudenell, why do you come to our poor little house so often?"

The question, though it was expected, was perplexing.

"Why do I come, Hannah? Why, because I like to."

"Because you like to! Quite a sufficient reason for a gentleman to
render for his actions, I suppose you think. But, now, another question:
'What are your intentions towards my sister?'"

"My intentions!" repeated the young man, in a thunderstruck manner.
"What in the world do you mean, Hannah?"

"I mean to remind you that you have been visiting Nora for the last two
months, and that to-day, when I entered the house, I found you sitting
together as lovers sit; looking at each other as lovers look; and
speaking in the low tones that lovers use; and when I reached you, you
started in confusion--as lovers do when discovered at their love-making.