Another turn in the road brought them to the little red house, and having rewarded her guide Ann Eliza unlatched the gate and walked up to the door. Her heart was beating violently, and she had to lean against the door-post to compose her twitching lips: she had not known till that moment how much it was going to hurt her to speak of Evelina to Mrs. Hochmuller. As her agitation subsided she began to notice how much the appearance of the house had changed. It was not only that winter had stripped the elm, and blackened the flower-borders: the house itself had a debased and deserted air. The window-panes were cracked and dirty, and one or two shutters swung dismally on loosened hinges. She rang several times before the door was opened. At length an Irish woman with a shawl over her head and a baby in her arms appeared on the threshold, and glancing past her into the narrow passage Ann Eliza saw that Mrs. Hochmuller's neat abode had deteriorated as much within as without. At the mention of the name the woman stared. “Mrs. who, did ye say?” “Mrs. Hochmuller. This is surely her house?” “No, it ain't neither,” said the woman turning away. “Oh, but wait, please,” Ann Eliza entreated. “I can't be mistaken. I mean the Mrs. Hochmuller who takes in washing. I came out to see her last June.” “Oh, the Dutch washerwoman is it--her that used to live here? She's been gone two months and more. It's Mike McNulty lives here now. Whisht!” to the baby, who had squared his mouth for a howl. Ann Eliza's knees grew weak. “Mrs. Hochmuller gone? But where has she gone? She must be somewhere round here. Can't you tell me?” “Sure an' I can't,” said the woman. “She wint away before iver we come.” “Dalia Geoghegan, will ye bring the choild in out av the cowld?” cried an irate voice from within. “Please wait--oh, please wait,” Ann Eliza insisted. “You see I must find Mrs. Hochmuller.” “Why don't ye go and look for her thin?” the woman returned, slamming the door in her face. She stood motionless on the door-step, dazed by the immensity of her disappointment, till a burst of loud voices inside the house drove her down the path and out of the gate. Even then she could not grasp what had happened, and pausing in the road she looked back at the house, half hoping that Mrs. Hochmuller's once detested face might appear at one of the grimy windows.