w a larger table, and on it lay a powder-horn and a
shot-flask, while in the angle of the table and the wall there stood a
double-barrelled fowling-piece. This sight made her eyes sparkle; he must
like to hunt and shoot. That pleased her very much. Herbert never cared
for those things, but she thought a young man should be fond of guns and
dogs and horses, and although she had never thought of it before, she
now considered it a manly thing to be able to go out into the hay-field
and work, if it happened to be necessary.

She went to the back door, and stood, looking out. There was nobody
stirring about Phoebe's house, and she asked herself if it would be worth
while to go over to it. Perhaps it might be as well to stroll toward the
hay-field. She knew where the great meadow was, because she had looked
over it when she had stood at the wide barn window with Mr. Haverley. He
had pointed out a good many things to her, and she remembered them all.

But she did not go to the hay-field. Just as she was about to step out
upon the back porch, she heard a door open behind her, and turning, saw,
emerging from the closed apartment which contained the staircase, a
strange figure. The head was that of a young girl about fourteen, with
large, astonished blue eyes, and light brown hair hanging in a long plait
down her back, while her form was attired in a plum-colored silk gown,
very much worn, torn in some places, with several great stains in the
front of the skirt, and a long and tattered train. The shoulders were
ever so much too wide, the waist was ever so much too big, and the long
sleeves were turned back and rolled up. In her hand the figure held a
large glass bottle, from the mouth of which hung a short rubber tube,
ending in a bulbous mouth-piece.

Dora could not suppress a start and an expression of surprise, but she
knew this must be Miriam Haverley, and advanced toward her. In a moment
she had recovered her self-possession sufficiently to introduce herself
and explain the situation. Miriam took the bottle in her left hand, and
held out her right to Dora.

"I have been expecting you would call," she said, "but I had no idea you
were here now. The door-bell is in the basement, and I have been
upstairs, trying to get dough off my hands. I have been making bread, and
I had no idea it was so troublesome to get your hands clean afterwards;
but I expect my dough is stickier than it ought to be, and after that I
was busy gettin