“Oh, thank you, ma’am! It was so nice of you to let me come! And I like David Lindsay. He is all the playmate I have got. But he’s splendid!” said the child, with enthusiasm. The old woman smiled on her, patted the tiny hand she held in her own, and then led her into the house. It was a good sized room, with clean, whitewashed walls, the one window shaded with a home-made blind of flowered wall-paper; the floor of wide planks, perfectly bare, yet scrubbed to a creamy whiteness; in one corner a neat bed, with a patchwork quilt and snowy pillows; in another corner a loom, with a piece of cloth in process of weaving; in a third, a large spinning-wheel; in the fourth, a corner cupboard, with glass doors in the upper part, through which might be seen the clean, coarse, blue-edged crockery ware, and the bright pewter dishes of the little _ménage_. In the middle of the floor stood a table covered with a coarse but snow-white cloth, and adorned with blue-edge cups and saucers and plates, while on the clean, red ochre-painted hearth stood a tea-pot and several covered plates and dishes, before the clear fire in the small open fireplace. “Come, lass, let me take off ’ee coat,” said the kind little woman, beginning to unbutton and untie until she had relieved the child of her hat and sack. “Now, sit ’ee down, lass, while I put dinner on the table,” she continued, depositing her small visitor on a low chip-bottomed chair, near the windowsill, on which stood a box of mignonette, that filled the homely room with fragrance. “’Ee’s late, Dave. I thought ’ee’d be here wi’ the lass an hour ago, and had all ready for ’ee,” said the old woman, as she began to place dinner on the table. “We were reading of a book what the little lady loaned me,” replied the boy, as he carefully placed the two volumes on each side the Bible, which stood upon a chest of drawers at the end of the room, between the bed and the corner cupboard. “It was my fault. I stopped David Lindsay to show him the books,” put in the child. “It wasn’t ’ee fault, then. It was ’ee goodness, little lass. And it’s na great matter. The dinner is no sich that it can be spoiled,” said Dame Lindsay, as she placed the last dish on the table, and then led her small guest to a seat. Poor as these cotters were in all things else, they were not poor in regard to food. The sea supplied them with fish for immediate use, and for salting away against winter; the two pigs that they bought and raised at a trifling cost every year, provided them with pork and bacon; the small poultry-yard with fowls and eggs; the patch of garden with vegetables and fruit; the little Alderney cow with milk and butter. The few other provisions they needed were easily procurable at the nearest country store on the main, in exchange for the excellent cotton hose and mittens knit by the industrious and skillful hands of the old dame.