mill on the other side of the road.

Although this road was the principal thoroughfare between Kennett Square
and Wilmington, the house was so screened from the observation of
travellers, both by the barn, and by some huge, spreading apple-trees
which occupied the space between the garden and road, that its inmates
seemed to live in absolute seclusion. Looking from the front door across
a narrow green meadow, a wooded hill completely shut out all glimpse of
the adjoining farms; while an angle of the valley, to the eastward, hid
from sight the warm, fertile fields higher up the stream.

The place seemed lonelier than ever in the gloomy March twilight; or was
it some other influence which caused Gilbert to pause on the flagged
walk, and stand there, motionless, looking down into the meadow until a
woman's shadow crossing the panes, was thrown upon the square of lighted
earth at his feet? Then he turned and entered the kitchen.

The cloth was spread and the table set. A kettle, humming on a heap of
fresh coals, and a squat little teapot of blue china, were waiting
anxiously for the brown paper parcel which he placed upon the cloth. His
mother was waiting also, in a high straight-backed rocking-chair, with
her hands in her lap.

"You're tired waiting, mother, I suppose?" he said, as he hung his hat
upon a nail over the heavy oak mantel-piece.

"No, not tired, Gilbert, but it's hungry _you'll_ be. It won't take long
for the tea to draw. Everything else has been ready this half-hour."

Gilbert threw himself upon the settle under the front window, and