Ditmar sat idle for some minutes after she had gone, staring through the open doorway into the outer office....

To Ditmar she had given no evidence of the storm his offer had created in her breast, and it was characteristic also that she waited until supper was nearly over to inform her family, making the announcement in a matter-of-fact tone, just as though it were not the unique piece of good fortune that had come to the Bumpuses since Edward had been eliminated from the mercantile establishment at Dolton.  The news was received with something like consternation.  For the moment Hannah was incapable of speech, and her hand trembled as she resumed the cutting of the pie:  but hope surged within her despite her effort to keep it down, her determination to remain true to the fatalism from which she had paradoxically derived so much comfort.  The effect on Edward, while somewhat less violent, was temporarily to take away his appetite.  Hope, to flower in him, needed but little watering.  Great was his faith in the Bumpus blood, and secretly he had always regarded his eldest daughter as the chosen vessel for their redemption.

“Well, I swan!” he exclaimed, staring at her in admiration and neglecting his pie, “I’ve always thought you had it in you to get on, Janet.  I guess I’ve told you you’ve always put me in mind of Eliza Bumpus—­the one that held out against the Indians till her husband came back with the neighbours.  I was just reading about her again the other night.”

“Yes, you’ve told us, Edward,” said Hannah.

“She had gumption,” he went on, undismayed.  “And from what I can gather of her looks I calculate you favour her—­she was dark and not so very tall—­not so tall as you, I guess.  So you’re goin’” (he pronounced it very slowly) “you’re goin’ to be Mr. Ditmar’s private stenographer!  He’s a smart man, Mr. Ditmar, he’s a good man, too.  All you’ve got to do is to behave right by him.  He always speaks to me when he passes by the gate.  I was sorry for him when his wife died—­a young woman, too.  And he’s never married again!  Well, I swan!”

“You’d better quit swanning,” exclaimed Hannah.  “And what’s Mr. Ditmar’s goodness got to do with it?  He’s found-out Janet has sense, she’s willing and hard working, he won’t” (pronounced want) “he won’t be the loser by it, and he’s not giving her what he gave Miss Ottway.  It’s just like you, thinking he’s doing her a good turn.”

“I’m not saying Janet isn’t smart,” he protested, “but I know it’s hard to get work with so many folks after every job.”

“Maybe it ain’t so hard when you’ve got some get-up and go,” Hannah retorted rather cruelly.  It was thus characteristically and with unintentional sharpness she expressed her maternal pride by a reflection not only upon Edward, but Lise also.  Janet had grown warm at the mention of Ditmar’s name.

“It was Miss Ottway who recommended me,” she said, glancing at her sister, who during this conversation had sat in silence.  Lise’s expression, normally suggestive of a discontent not unbecoming to her type, had grown almost sullen.  Hannah’s brisk gathering up of the dishes was suddenly arrested.