married an American merchant in the remote past, and had died many
years since, leaving an only child. I was now further informed that the
father also was dead. In his last moments he had committed his helpless
daughter to the compassionate care of his wife's relations at Morwick.

"He was always a speculating man," Ambrose went on. "Tried one thing
after another, and failed in all. Died, sir, leaving barely enough to
bury him. My father was a little doubtful, before she came here, how
his American niece would turn out. We are English, you know; and,
though we do live in the United States, we stick fast to our English
ways and habits. We don't much like American women in general, I can
tell you; but when Naomi made her appearance she conquered us all. Such
a girl! Took her place as one of the family directly. Learned to make
herself useful in the dairy in a week's time. I tell you this--she
hasn't been with us quite two months yet, and we wonder already how we
ever got on without her!"

Once started on the subject of Naomi Colebrook, Ambrose held to that
one topic and talked on it without intermission. It required no great
gift of penetration to discover the impression which the American
cousin had produced in this case. The young fellow's enthusiasm
communicated itself, in a certain tepid degree, to me. I really felt a
mild flutter of anticipation at the prospect of seeing Naomi, when we
drew up, toward the close of evening, at the gates of Morwick Farm.


CHAPTER II.

THE NEW FACES.