She heard his voice, and knew that he was still in the parlor.

So for a long time she lingered at the outer door, talking very loudly to Ida, and finally, when there was no longer any excuse for tarrying, she suddenly turned back, and shaking out her cloak and tippet, exclaimed, "Why, where can my other glove be?
I must have dropped it in the parlor, for I do not remember of having had it up stairs!" The parlor was of course entered and searched, and though no missing glove was found, the company of Henry Lincoln was thus secured.

Have my readers never seen a Henry Lincoln, or an Ella Campbell?
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