boy. "Is there any other Mrs. Brett?"

"No, there ain't!" was the succinct reply.

"Well, where _does_ she live?" cried the boy, impatiently.

"The Widder Brett lives down yender!" said the sandy person, nodding
down the street. "Ye can't see the house from here, but go clear on to
the eend, and ye'll see it to yer right,--a yaller house, with green
blinds, an' a yard in front. You 'kin to the Widder Brett?"

"No," said the tall young lady, speaking for the first time; "we are no
relations. Thank you very much! Good-morning!" and with a word to the
boy, she gathered up the reins, and drove slowly down the little street.

The post-supporters watched them till the last wheel of the phaeton
disappeared round the turn; then they turned eagerly to one another.

"Who be they? What d'ye s'pose they want o' the Widder Brett?" was the
eager cry. "Says they ain't no blood relation o' Mis' Brett's." "Some o'
Brett's folks, likely!" "I allus heerd his folks was well off."

Meanwhile the phaeton was making its way along slowly, as I said, for
Rose was tired after the long drive.

"But not too tired!" she averred, in answer to Hildegarde's anxious
inquiry. "Oh, no, dear! not a bit too tired, only just enough to make
rest most delightful. What a funny little street!--something like the
street in Glenfield, isn't it? Look! that might be Miss Bean's shop,
before you took hold of it."

"Oh, worse, much worse!" cried Hildegarde, laughing. "These bonnets are
positively mildewed. Rose, I see the mould on that bunch of berries."

"Mould!" cried Rose, in mock indignation. "It is bloom, Hilda,--a fine
purple bloom! City people don't know the difference, perhaps."

"See!" said Hildegarde; "this must be 'the Widder Brett's' house. What a
pretty little place, Rose! I am sure we shall like the good woman
herself. Take the reins, dear, while I go and make sure. No, Bubble, I
will go myself, thank you."

She sprang lightly out, and after patting Dr. Abernethy's head and
bidding him stand still like the best of dears, she opened the white
gate, which stuck a little, as if it were not opened every day. A tidy
little wooden walk, with a border of pinks on either side, led up to the
green door, in front of which was one broad stone doorstep. Beyond the
pinks was a bed of pansies on the one hand; on the other, two
apple-trees and a pleasant little green space; while under the cottage
windows were tiger-lilies and tall white phlox and geranium