It was up a great many pairs of stairs, and the stairs at the top
were a good deal broken, and were black with use, and altogether
considerably out of repair. But the strangest part, though also the
most delightful to Maurice and Cecile in their funny new home, was
the fact that it had no door at all.

When you got to the top and looked for the door, you were confronted
with nothing but a low ceiling over your head, and a piece of rope
within reach of your hand. If you pulled the rope hard enough, up
would suddenly jump two or three boards, and then there was an
opening big enough for you to creep into the little kitchen.

Yes, it was the queerest entrance into the oddest little home. But
when once you got there how cozy it all was!

The proverbial saying, "eating off the floor," might have been
practiced on those white boards. The little range shone like a
looking glass, and cups and saucers were ranged on shelves above it.
In the middle of the floor stood a bright and thick crimson drugget.
The window, dormer though it was, was arranged quite prettily with
crimson curtains, while some pots of sweet-smelling herbs and flowers
stood on its ledge. There were two or three really good colored
prints on the white-washed walls and several illuminated texts of
Scripture. The little deal table, too, was covered with a crimson
cloth.

A canary bird hung in a cage in the window, and it is not too much
to say that this poor bird, born and bred in the East End, was
thoroughly happy in his snug home. A soft-furred gray cat purred