"Andrew!" she called, in a low voice, as she stepped from the door,
and threw her eyes up and down the street: "Andrew!"

But all was silent. Descending to the pavement, she passed along a
few yards to the steps of the next house, a faint hope in her mind
that Andrew might have seated himself there in his disappointment
and fallen asleep. But this hope was not realized. Then she passed
on to the next house, and the next, with the same purpose and the
same result. She was near the corner of the street, when the sound
of a closing door fell upon her ear, and the thought that the wind
might have shut her own door upon her, filled her with sudden alarm.
Running back, she found that what she had feared was too true. She
was alone in the street, half-dressed and with her head uncovered,
and the door, which closed with a dead-latch, shut against her.

To ring the bell was Mrs. Howland's first impulse. But no one
answered to the summons. Every ear was sealed in slumber, and, even
were that not the case, no one would come down, unless her husband
should awaken, and discover that she was not by his side. Again and
again she pulled the bell. But eagerly though she listened, with her
ear to the door, not the slightest movement was heard within.

While the mother shrunk close to the door in a listening attitude,
the sound of a slow, heavy step was heard approaching along the
street. Soon the form of a man came in view, and in a little while
he was in front of Mrs. Howland, where he paused, and after standing
and looking at her for a few moments, said,

"What's the matter here?"