It seemed to her the most natural thing in the world to make a steaming cup of tea and carry it in to Old Grannis next door.

It seemed to her that he was wanting her, that she ought to go to him.

With the brusque resolve and intrepidity that sometimes seizes upon very timid people--the courage of the coward greater than all others--she had presented herself at the old Englishman's half-open door, and, when he had not heeded her knock, had pushed it open, and at last, after all these years, stood upon the threshold of his room.

She had found courage enough to explain her intrusion.
"I was making some tea, and I thought you would like to have a cup." Old Grannis dropped his hands upon either arm of his chair, and, leaning forward a little, looked at her blankly.

He did not speak.
The retired dressmaker's courage had carried her thus far; now it deserted her as abruptly as it had come.