"Hilda, dear, supper is ready, and I am sure you must be very hungry.
Will you come down with me?"

"Oh! thank you, presently," said Hildegarde, hastily. "I am not--I
haven't changed my dress yet. Don't wait for me, please!"

"Dear heart, don't think of changing your dress!" said Dame Hartley.
"You are a country lassie now, you know, and we are plain farm people.
Come down just as you are, there's a dear!"

Hilda obeyed, only waiting to wash her burning face and hot, dry hands
in the crystal-cold water which she poured out of the blue dragon
pitcher. Her hair was brushed back and tied with a ribbon, the little
curls combed and patted over her forehead; and in a few minutes she
followed her hostess down the narrow staircase, with a tolerably
resigned expression on her pretty face. To tell the truth, Hilda felt a
great deal better for her long nap; moreover she was a little curious,
and very, very hungry,--and oh, how good something did smell!

Mrs. Hartley led the way into the kitchen, as the chief room at Hartley
Farm was still called, though the cooking was now done by means of a
modern stove in the back kitchen, while the great fireplace, with the
crane hanging over it, and the brick oven by its side, was used, as a
rule, only to warm the room. At this season the room needed no warming,
and feathery asparagus crowned the huge back-log, and nodded between the
iron fire-dogs. Ah! it was a pleasant room, the kitchen at Hartley
Farm,--wide and roomy, with deep-seated windows facing the south and
west; with a floor of dark oak, which shone with more than a century of
scrubbing. The fireplace, oven, and cupboards occupied one whole side of
the room. Along the other ran a high dresser, whose shelves held a