"I don't know, Ma’am — I believe Mr. Van Brunt said the
blacksmith had kept him."
Miss Fortune bustled about a few minutes in silence, setting
some things on the table, and filling the tea-pot.
"Come," she said to Ellen, "take off your coat and come to the
table. You must be hungry by this time. It's a good while
since you had your dinner, ain't it? Come, mother."
The old lady rose, and Miss Fortune, taking her chair, set it
by the side of the table, next the fire. Ellen was opposite to
her, and now, for the first time, the old lady seemed to know
that she was in the room. She looked at her very attentively,
but with an expressionless gaze which Ellen did not like to
meet, though otherwise her face was calm and pleasant.
"Who is that?" inquired the old lady presently of Miss
Fortune, in a half whisper.
"That's Morgan's daughter," was the answer.
"Morgan's daughter! Has Morgan a daughter?"
"Why, yes, mother; don't you remember I told you a month ago
he was going to send her here?"
The old lady turned again, with a half shake of her head,
towards Ellen. "Morgan's daughter," she repeated to herself,
softly, "she's a pretty little girl — very pretty. Will you
come round here and give me a kiss, dear?"
Ellen submitted. The old lady folded her in her arms, and
kissed her affectionately. "That's your grandmother, Ellen,"
said Miss Fortune, as Ellen went back to her seat.
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