"Now, you see, I'm very sorry to have to fetch you up here, where there's no fire; but that strange woman, you know, when she come, of course I had to give up my room to her, and so you see how it is," said Miss Sibby, apologetically. "Oh! never mind. We shall not stay up here long enough to get chilled; but who is the woman, anyhow?" inquired Mrs. Hedge. "Well, she is a widdy woman, and her name is a Mrs. Wright, and she come from Callyfoundland." "California, do you mean?" "Yes; I s'pose that is it. I was thinking of Newfoundland, where Roland made his first voyage, and I got 'em mixed. It's impossible to memorize all the places, sez I. Well, about Mrs. Wright. She was a passenger on board the _Blue Bird_; and, naterally, Roland being third mate, got acquainted long of her, and she was bound for Port Tobacco, where she had business in the neighborhood concerning her late husband's affairs, and so she come down from Baltimore long o' Roland, and he fotch her here, and what could I do, sez I? I couldn't turn her out'n doors, could I? And she and Roland are that thick together as I sometimes s'picions mebbe as she's his own mother; for, you know, nobody knows who Roland's people are--a child which was flung ashore by the sea when the _Carrier Pigeon_ was wrecked." "But if she was she would say so, wouldn't she?" inquired Mrs. Hedge. "I don't know. I don't know. Sometimes I think I will ask her if she ever had a long-lost child. But, sez I, it's a delicate question, sez I, to ask of a strange woman, sez I. And so I think I'll wait and see how things will turn out. Anyhow, you'll see her at tea time, and Roland, too, and just you take notice!" And so saying, Miss Sibby attended her guests--who had finished their toilets--downstairs. A neat, old, colored woman was engaged in setting the table for tea. "Put seven plates and seven cups and saucers, Mocka. I spects young Mr. Force will come in along of Master Roland," said Miss Sibby, as she once more seated herself among her guests around the fire. Presently the inner door opened and a very fine-looking woman of about thirty-five years of age entered the room. She was a brilliant brunette, with a great quantity of rippling black hair covering a well-shaped head. Her features were, perhaps, rather coarse, her face and form rather too full, and her stature too low, but her eyes were large, black and beautiful, and shaded by long and very thick black lashes, and arched by heavy black brows; her mouth was large but well formed, plump and red, and her complexion was rich and beautiful beyond description. A strikingly handsome woman she would have been called anywhere. She wore a black silk dress, with fine lace ruffles at the throat and wrists; a pearl brooch and a very heavy gold watch chain. She waddled into the room, with an easy, rolling motion, and nodded graciously to the company assembled there. She looked doubtful, the sisters thought. She might be a lady, but--