After that he went out again to open the hen-house door, and carry the hens their breakfast.

She heard her grandmother go down the stairs, and a few moments later she heard heavy footsteps come splashing up the wet garden path, and very soon go down again.
Jessie got up and dressed herself, and made her way down.

She had been singing to herself while she was dressing, so had not noticed anything unusual in the sounds and doings below stairs.

But as she went down she did notice that the house seemed very quiet and still, and that there was no smell of breakfast cooking.

Usually at this time her grandfather was busy in the scullery cleaning boots and knives, or doing some job or other, while her grandmother bustled back and forth, talking loudly, that her voice might reach above the frizzling of the frying-pan.