offered her his seat.

"I am warmed enough," he said, as Verplanck gave brief thanks; "besides
there is room here. Wake up, grandfather," and he gave the sleeping man
a gentle push as he squeezed himself down beside him.

"Stay here till the coach is ready, Betty," said Verplanck. "Mrs.
Seymour will join you presently," and he departed to hasten the
hostlers, who could be heard outside, evidently engaged in harnessing
the horses they were to use.

Betty looked around her curiously. The room, with its low ceilings,
dark rafters, and sanded floor, was fairly tidy, and, in the light and
shade of the shifting fire, picturesque and strange. A short, thick-set
man, evidently the host, a comfortable-looking Dutchman, bustled in and
out, giving directions in a perfectly audible aside to a maid, who wore
a queer straight cap and brought in trays of beer to the thirsty party
of traders. A little boy in one corner was playing with some nails and a
pewter plate; each time he dropped the nails, making a jingling noise,
the landlord said, "Hush, there, Hans," in a loud whisper, to which the
child paid no attention. Betty wondered if it was his son, and felt as
if she would like to go over and play with him; and then thought, with a
half-homesick longing, of Moppet and the dear New England home. Far, far
away ran Betty's thoughts, as minute after minute sped along and no one
came to disturb her reverie. So engrossed was she that not even a low,
but distinctly spoken "_hist_," which came from the settle near her,
aroused her until it had been given the third time. Then she started;
there was something familiar in the sound--was any one speaking to her?

"Hist! do not look this way," whispered a voice which came from the