downstairs, holding up her crinoline and tripping over ruffles.
"I'll have to peep out and see," she thought. "Mercy, "where does the miserable thing unfasten?"
Before she reached the hall, however, the waiting caller tried the knocker, and sent an expert and vigorous double knock echoing into the house.
"They know their business, anyway," thought Jane. "That was a real double knock—none of your feeble, lubberly raps."
She intended to open the door only a crack, but no sooner had she unlatched it than the wind caught it out of her hand, and she stood fully visible in her finery—trailing flounces, India shawl, spoon-bonnet, and all. On the doorstep stood a rather small old gentleman with a dry, brown face, and clear, quick, gray eyes under bristling gray eyebrows. In one hand he held a bunch of sweet peas and a walking-stick with a carved ivory head; with the other he now removed his hat.
"Please excuse—" began Jane, but the old gentleman was staring at her so hard that she stopped.
