"Joel!" said his mother, "take this candle and show Harry upstairs in
the attic chamber."

"Yes, mam."

So, preceded by Joel, Harry went up two flights of stairs to the attic
room reserved for him. It was the only room that had been finished
off, and the garret outside looked dark and forbidding.

"I would be scared to sleep up here," said his companion.

"I shall not be at all frightened, Joel," said Harry.

"Good-night. Just hold the candle while I go downstairs."

When he was fairly all alone, Harry began to look about him, to
ascertain in what kind of quarters he was to pass the night. To begin
with he examined the door, he ascertained that it was a common latch
door, and there was no lock. There was nothing to prevent anyone
entering the room during the night. There was a small cot bed in one
corner, a chair, and an old wooden chest. There was no bureau nor
washstand. The absence of the latter annoyed Harry.

He learned afterward that he was expected to go downstairs and wash in
a large basin in the kitchen sink--wiping his face on a brown, roll
towel which was used by the entire family. This was quite
unsatisfactory to Harry, who was scrupulously neat in his tastes.

"This isn't a palace exactly," Harry said to himself.