"There is no danger unless I wake grandmother. She wakes very early of herself and she may not be asleep and her hearing is very quick." "What will she say?" "I think I can manage her." "Well, we must hurry. It is lucky that my room is away from the others or I should not be sure of getting there unsuspected. Hurry, Annie." The two sped swiftly and noiselessly down the street, which was now very dark. The village houses seemed rather awful with their dark windows like sightless eyes. When they reached Annie's house Alice gave her a swift kiss. "Good-night," she whispered. "Alice." "Well, little Annie?" "I am going to be married, to Mr. Von Rosen." Alice started ever so slightly. "You are a lucky girl," she whispered, "and he is a lucky man." Alice flickered out of sight down the street like a white moonbeam and Annie stole into the house. She dared not lock the door behind her lest she arouse somebody. She tip-toed upstairs, but as she was passing her grandmother's door, it was opened, and the old woman stood there, her face lit by her flaring candle. "You just march right in here," said she so loud that Annie shuddered for fear she would arouse the whole house. She followed her grandmother into her room and the old woman turned and looked at her, and her face was white. "Where have you been, Miss?" said she. "It is after three o'clock in the morning." "I had to go, grandmother, and there was no harm, but I can't tell you. Indeed, I can't," replied Annie, trembling. "Why can't you? I'd like to know." "I can't, indeed, I can't, grandmother." "Why not, I'd like to know. Pretty doings, I call it." "I can't tell you why not, grandmother." The old woman eyed the girl. "Out with a man--I don't care if you are engaged to him--till this time!" said she. Annie started and crimsoned. "Oh, grandmother!" she cried. "I don't care if he is a minister. I am going to see him to-morrow, no, to-day, right after breakfast and give him a piece of my mind. I don't care what he thinks of me." "Grandmother, there wasn't any man." "Are you telling me the truth?" "I always tell the truth." "Yes, I think you always have since that time when you were a little girl and I spanked you for lying," said the old woman. "I rather think you do tell the truth, but sometimes when a girl gets a man into her head, she goes round like a top. You haven't been alone, you needn't tell me that." "No, I haven't been alone." "But, he wasn't with you? There wasn't any man?" "No, there was not any man, grandmother." "Then you had better get into your own room as fast as you can and move still or you will wake up Harriet and Susan." Annie went. "I am thankful I am not curious," said the old woman clambering back into bed. She lit her lamp and took up her novel again. The next morning old Ann Maria Eustace announced her granddaughter's engagement at the breakfast table. She waited until the meal was in full swing, then she raised her voice.