From her movements he judged that she was mixing a bowl of
soft food for the old hound at her feet, and he waited until she had
called the dog inside for his supper, before he went forward and spoke
her name in his pleasant voice.
At the sound she turned with a start, and he saw her vivid little face,
with the wonderful eyes, go white for a minute.
"So you are Mr. Jonathan? I thought so," she said at last, "but
grandfather told me you sent no word of your coming."
She spoke quickly, with a refinement of accent which puzzled him until
he remembered the malicious hints Solomon Hatch had let fall at the
tavern. That she was, in reality, of his blood and the child of his
uncle, he had not doubted since the moment she had smiled at him from
her seat on the oxcart. How much was known, he now wondered. Had his
uncle provided for her? Was his mother--was his Aunt Kesiah--aware of
the truth?
"She missed my letter, I suppose," he replied. "Has she been long away?"
"Only a week. She is expected home day after to-morrow."
"Then I shall beg you to open the house for me."
She had turned back to the old hound, and was bending over to place his
bowl of bread and milk on the hearth.
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