“Turned out by your Granther Hetherton, because I came over to tell him his son Fred had run off with your mother. Why, Rennet, child, what’s the matter! you are white as a sheet,” she continued, as with a long gasp for breath Reinette clasped both hands to her forehead and leaned helplessly back in her chair. “It’s nothing,” she said faintly, “only the pain in my head has come back again. What you told me was so dreadful—my mother ran off with my father! What for? Why, were they not married at home? Was there any reason?” “Reason? No,” grandma returned. “There was a nice big room back of the shop, and if it was good enough for Paul Rossiter to be married in, and for your father to spark your mother in, as he did many a time, it was good enough for him to be married in. But no; he was afeard, mabby, that he should have to notice some of us, who he thought no more on than so much dirt, and so he ran off with her to New York and got married, and then started for Europe, and I’ve never seen her sence. But surely, Rennet you must have known something about it, though Anny here, and Phil too—that’s Miss Rossiter’s son—will have it that you never heard of us till yesterday, and so never knew who your mother was. Is that so?” It was a direct question and hurt Reinette cruelly suffering as she was both mentally and physically. The wet napkin was again applied to her throbbing temples, and then, in a voice full of anguish, and yet with something defiant in its tone, she said rapidly, like one who wishes to have a disagreeable task ended: “No, I did not know who my mother was; father never told me.” “That’s smart, but just like him,” grandma interposed; but Reinette stopped her short, and said: “Hush, grandma! I will not hear my father blamed for anything. He may have acted hastily and foolishly when he was young, but he was the dearest and best of fathers to me. He did not talk much, ever, and never of his private affairs, and since I know—that—that—he ran away with my mother, I am not surprised that he did not tell me who she was or anything of her early life. He knew it would pain me, and so he let me think her an English woman, as I always did——” “Yes, but when you started for America a body would s’pose he would have told. He knew you’d have to see us then and know,” grandma said, and Reinette replied: