She hastily paid the man and was at the side door that opened into the sitting-room.

As she put her hand to the knob she was conscious of Clytie passing the window to open the door.
Then they were face to face over the threshold--Clytemnestra, of a matronly circumference, yet with a certain prim consciousness of herself, which despite the gray hair and the excellent maturity of her face, was unmistakably maidenish--Clytie of the eyes always wise to another's needs and beaming with that fine wisdom.
She started back from the doorway by way of being playfully dramatic--her hands on her hips, her head to one side at an astounded angle.

Yet little more than a second did she let herself simulate this welcoming incredulity--this stupefaction of cordiality.

There must be quick speech--especially as to Nancy's face--which seemed strangely unfamiliar, set, suppressed, breathless, unaccountably young--and there had to be the splendid announcement of another matter.
"Why, child, is it you or your ghost ?" Nancy could only nod her head.
"My suz! what ails the child ?" Here the other managed a shake of the head and a made smile.
"And of all things!--you'll never, never, never guess!--" "There--there!--yes, yes--yes! I know--know all about it--knew it--knew it last night--" She had put out a hand toward Clytie and now reached the other from her side, easing herself to the doorpost against which she leaned and laughed, weakly, vacantly.
"Some one told you--on the way up ?" "Yes--I knew it, I tell you--that's what makes it so funny and foolish--why I came, you know--" She had now gained a little in coherence, and with it came a final doubt.

She steadied herself in the doorway to ask--"When did Bernal come ?" And Clytie, somewhat relieved, became voluble.
"Night before last on the six-fifteen, and me getting home late from the Epworth meeting--fire out--not a stick of kindling-wood in--only two cakes in the buttery, neither of them a layer--not a frying-size chicken on the place--thank goodness he didn't have the appetite he used to--though in another way it's just downright heartbreaking to see a person you care for not be a ready eater--but I had some of the plum jell he used to like, and the good half of an apple-John which I at once het up--and I sent Mehitty Lykins down for some chops--" "Where is he ?" There had seemed to be a choking in the question.