The house certainly had no claim to either comfort or beauty. The main room, about twenty feet square, served as living-room, bedroom and dining-room. The kitchen, a small log structure, stood some yards to the rear of the house. The family table-ware, the stock of groceries and all wearing apparel found place in the living-room. A great canopy bed, which both Christine and Alison shared with Hannah Maria, filled a large space in one corner, a table stood in the middle of the floor, several chairs seated with untanned deer-skin were pushed against the wall haphazard; over the mantelpiece hung a rifle, powder-horn, and pouches; a bureau held its place as general receptacle for anything which could not be poked away elsewhere. A Bible occupied one end of the mantel; on the other end was a Connecticut clock supporting a card to which was pinned a flashy breastpin. On state occasions, such as funerals and weddings, Hannah Maria wore the pin. It was not the home of elegance, but there was easy content and rough kindliness of the truest sort. If both Christine and Alison had elected to spend the remainder of their mortal existences under Bud’s roof, they would have been as cordially welcome as if they were members of the family. Indeed, it was because any other arrangement would have given offense that they were obliged to accept this ready hospitality. Fortunately it was mild weather, and, unless a norther drove every one within doors to seek the fire, the gallery was the gathering place for all, and here, on a pallet, Bud was wont to sleep in summer. The Haleys’, being the centre of neighborhood news, was seldom passed by those going up or down the road, and the gallery was usually occupied by half a dozen persons during the greater part of the day, for even if Hannah Maria had gone forth on some charitable errand, incidental to gathering news, Bud would be at home; or if Bud were away Hannah Maria would be found surrounded by the hounds and shooing off chickens from her untidy flower-beds, but ready to smile a welcome to whomever should ride up. The lock of hair had been sent by a safe hand to Ira, and every day some of the boys managed to bring a report of Louisa. “Old Cy has some scheme in his head,” Bud told the girls. “I don’t know jest what. I think he’d send Pike about his business if he dared. As for Jabe he’s easier managed; he wants Lou, but he’s divided between his desire for her and his love of his money-bags, so he’ll only come up to the scratch when it’s now or never.”