her grandmother goodbye with suspicious pleasure, and sent her grandfather
away on an errand which, with attendant conversation, would consume half the
day. Then bundles after bundles and baskets after baskets were packed into the
wagon,--behind the seat, beneath the seat, and finally under the lap-robe. She
gave a dramatic flourish to the whip, drove across the bridge, went through
Pleasant River village, and up the leafy road to the little house, stared the
"To Let" sign scornfully in the eye, alighted, and ran like a deer through the
aisles of waving corn, past the kitchen windows, to the back door.

"If he has kept the big key in the old place under the stone, where we both
used to find it, then he has n't forgotten me--or anything," thought Rose.

The key was there, and Rose lifted it with a sob of gratitude. It was but five
minutes' work to carry all the bundles from the wagon to the back steps, and
another five to lead old Tom across the road into the woods and tie him to a
tree quite out of the sight of any passer-by.

When, after running back, she turned the key in the lock, her heart gave a
leap almost of terror, and she started at the sound of her own footfall.
Through the open door the sunlight streamed into the dark room. She flew to
tables and chairs, and gave a rapid sweep of the hand over their surfaces.

"He has been dusting here,--and within a few days, too," she thought
triumphantly.

The kitchen was perfection, as she always knew it would be, with one door
opening to the shaded road and the other looking on the river; windows, too,
framing the apple-orchard and the elms. She had chosen the furniture, but how
differently it looked now that it was actually in place! The tiny shed had
piles of split wood, with great boxes of kindlings and shavings, all in