She was a little fat, black-eyed, black-haired girl, with waist and ankles of no Lilliputian size, and when at last Walter dared to steal a look at her, she had already divested herself of her traveling habiliments, and with the household cat in her arms, was looking about for a chair which suited her. She evidently did not fancy the high, old-fashioned ones which had belonged to Deacon Marshall’s wife, for, spying the one which was never used, and into which even Ellen dared not climb, she unhesitatingly wheeled it from its place, and seated herself in its capacious depths, quite as a matter of course. A good deal shocked, and somewhat amused, Walter watched her proceedings, thinking to himself: "By and by I’ll tell her that is father’s chair, and then she won’t want to sit in it; but she’s a stranger now, so I guess I’ll let her alone." By this time the cat, unaccustomed to quite so hard a squeeze as Jessie gave it, escaped from her lap, and jumping down, Jessie ran after it, exclaiming: "Oh, boy, boy, stop her!" A peculiar whistle from Walter sent the animal flying faster from her, and shaking back her curls, Jessie’s black eyes flashed up into his face, as she said: "You’re the meanest boy, and I don’t like you a bit." "Jessie," said the stern voice of her father, and for the first time since his entrance, Walter turned to look at him, and as he looked he felt the bitterness gradually giving way, for the expression of Mr. Graham’s face was not proud and overbearing as he had fancied it to be. On the contrary, it was mild and gentle as a woman’s, while there was something in his pleasant blue eyes which would prompt an entire stranger to trust him at once. He had seen much of the world, and of what is called best society, and his manners were polished and pleasing. Still there was nothing ostentatious about him, no consciousness of superiority, and when Deacon Marshall, pointing to Walter, said to him, "This is Seth’s child," he took the boy’s hand in his own, and for a moment, stood gazing down into the frank, open face, then pushing the brown hair from off the forehead, he said: "You look as your father did, when we were boys together, and he was the dearest friend I knew." "What made you turn against him then?" trembled on Walter’s lips, but the words were not uttered, for Mr. Graham’s manner had disarmed him of all animosity, and he said instead: "I hope I may be as good and true a man as I believe him to have been." For a moment longer Mr. Graham held the hand in his, while he looked admiringly at the boy, who had paid this tribute to one whom the world considered an outcast, then releasing it, he turned away, and Walter was sure that his eyes were moist with something which looked like tears.