written
underneath as signature.

CHAPTER IV.

If Laura had been astonished before, she was still more so now, and so
much so that she really could not collect her thoughts. She felt like
crying, but she could not; she felt angry, but there was no way of
venting anger; so she just sat still on the floor awhile and counted the
nails in the boards. This had the happiest effect, for, after she had
gone over and over the nails, a few quiet thoughts came to her.

First she must make herself clean; so, dropping all her clothes, she
gave herself, for the first time in her life, a good scrubbing. She made
a great splashing, and succeeded in getting the floor very wet; but she
also made herself very sweet and nice, and found plenty of clean clothes
ready for her hanging on the pegs. Then she went down below and ate a
whole loaf of bread and drank about a quart of milk. This also had a
good effect, for she began to face the situation, and determined to do
her best. As she sat meditating, she heard a great noise among the
fowls, and it reminded her of what she had to do. Going to the cupboard
in search of food for them, she found a slip of paper and a key; on the
slip of paper was written:

"This key opens a door in the rock; there you will find food for
the chickens and pigs; hay and straw for the cow are in the barn.
The key-hole is just this side of the vine that hangs beside the
cottage door."

Her doubts were now dispelled, and, doing as the paper directed, she
opened the door into a large, cool, rock cellar, full of provisions of
all kinds.

On the shelves were pots of butter and lard, pans of sweet milk and
curds, empty pans shining, all ready for fresh milk, a milking-pail and
stool. Hams and tongues hung from the roof, with bunches of sweet
herbs. Barrels of flour and sugar, vinegar and molasses, were in another
room off the large one. Opening a closet, she found jars of clear
jellies and delicious preserves. Every fruit that one could think of was
here, crystallized in the most inviting manner.

Nothing was wanting, not even cheeses or pickles, and on a shelf by
itself was a chicken-pie as if for her immediate use when hungry.

Grain for the fowls stood ready in huge bags, and she knew, because
Nannette had told her, that sour milk was good for the pigs. After
surveying all these goodly stores, she went out to the chickens, just in
time to drive away a great hawk which was creating m