ut
you must come up again."

Then he directed them, and they drove over in a westerly course and soon
came to the little stone house that bore evident marks of decay from
neglect as well as age. The first story was rough stone, the half-story
of shingles, that had once been painted red. There were two small
windows in the gable ends, but in front the eaves overhung the doorway
and the windows and were broken and moss-grown. There was a big flat
stone for the doorstep, a room on one side with two windows, and on the
other only one. The hall door was divided in the middle, the upper part
open. There was a queer brass knocker on this, and the lower part
fastened with an old-fashioned latch. The little courtyard looked tidy,
and there was a great row of sweet clover along the fence, but now and
then the goats would nibble it off.

When they stepped up on the stoop they saw an old lady sitting in a
rocking-chair, with a little table beside her, and some knitting in her
lap. She had evidently fallen into a doze. Hanny stretched up on tiptoe.
A great gray cat lay asleep also. There were some mats laid about the
floor, two very old arm-chairs with fine rush bottoms painted yellow, a
door open on either side of the hall, and a well-worn winding stairs
going up at the back.

Mr. Underhill reached over and gave a light knock. The cat lifted its
head and made a queer sound like a gentle call, then went to the old
lady and stretched up to her knees. She started and glanced toward the
door, then rose in a little confusion.

"I am looking for a Miss Underhill," began the visitor.

"Oh, pardon me." She unbolted the lower door. "I believe I had fallen
asleep. Miss Underhill?" in a sort of surprised inquiry. "I am--one of
the sisters. Walk in."

She pushed out one of the arm-chairs and gave her footstool to the
little girl.

"I am an Underhill myself, a sort of connection, I dare say. We heard of
you some time ago, but I have been much occupied with business, yet I
have intended all the time to call on you."

"You are very good, I am sure. We had some relations on Long Island, and
I think some here-about, but we lost sight of them long ago. We really
have no one now. My sister Jane is past eighty, and I am only three
years younger."

She was a slim, shrunken body and her hands were almost transparent, so
white was her skin. Her gown was gray, and she wore a white kerchief
crossed on her bosom like a Quakeress. Her fine muslin