Trenholme went on with his writing, and now a curious thing happened.
About nine o'clock he again heard steps upon his path, and the bell
rang. Thinking it a visitor, he stepped to the door himself, as he often
did. There was no one there but a small boy, bearing a large box on his
shoulders. He asked for Mrs. Martha. "Have you got a parcel for her?"
said Trenholme, thinking his housekeeper had probably retired, as she
did not come to the door. The boy signified that he had, and made his
way into the light of the study door. Trenholme saw now, by the label on
the box, that he had come from the largest millinery establishment the
place could boast. It rather surprised him that the lean old woman
should have been purchasing new apparel there, but there was nothing to
be done but tell the boy to put out the contents of the box and be gone.
Accordingly, upon a large chair the boy laid a white gown of delicate
material, and went away.

Trenholme stood contemplating the gown; he even touched it lightly with
his hand, so surprised he was. He soon concluded there was some
mistake, and afterwards, when he heard the housekeeper enter the kitchen
from the garden door, he was interested enough to get up with alacrity
and call to her. "A gown has come for you, Mrs. Martha," he cried. Now,
he thought, the mistake would be proved; but she only came in soberly,
and took up the gown as if it was an expected thing. He bade her
good-night. "Good-night," said she, looking at him. There was a red spot
on each of her thin, withered cheeks. He heard her footstep mounting her
bedroom staircase, but no clue to the mystery of her purchase offered
itself to mitigate his surprise. Had she not been his housekeeper now
for six years, and during that time not so much as a trace of any vagary
of mind had he observed in her.