"They were extremely careful of our health at the school where I have been for the last eight years. That was the reason my father sent me there. He had heard how remarkably healthy their pupils were." "'Twan't in this country, or you'd speak more nateral like." "No, it was in Brussels." "Oh, yes; in England, I suppose." "No, on the continent of Europe; a city in Belgium, the capital." "And you've talked a furrin tongue, then." "Yes, several; but the German is the only one I speak quite correctly." "Bless your heart, you'll soon talk fast enough in English. Your voice is very sweet; it minds me of your ma's. And it 'pears to me you speak better already." I was beaming on the good woman now. "Will you remain long in Cavendish?" I ventured on a question or two myself. "It'll depend on Dan'el's wife. He wants me to come and live with 'em, but I hain't much hankering for darters-in-law, and I reckon we'd be better friends furder apart. However I'll stay till she gets well; it costs so for hired girls." "May I come and see you?" I asked. "Bless your dear heart, I'll be proud to have you come." "Will you please tell me your name and what street you live on?" "Oh, the streets don't amount to much in Cavendish. My name is Betsy Blake; just inquire for Dan'el Blake on the Mill Road; he works in Belcher's steam mill. Laws, how quick the time has gone! I thought for sure I'd be amost scart to death; and I've hardly once thought of getting smashed since I sot down here first; and now we're just into Cavendish." I glanced through the window, and my heart throbbed joyously; for there, stretching so far away I could see no further shore, lay the beautiful ocean. No matter now what might be my home in this strange, new country. With my passion for the sea, and it so near, I could not be utterly desolate. To sit on these cliffs, reddening now in the sunset and watch the outgoing tide, sending imaginary messages on the departing waves to far-off shores, would surely, to some extent, deaden the sense of utter isolation from the world of childhood and youth. Mrs. Blake shook my hand warmly, repeating again the invitation to visit her at Daniel's, while she gathered up her huge basket and started for the door with the cars still in motion. I sat watching from the window the groups of people waiting for the incoming train as we stopped at the station. A few carriages were there, but none of them had come for Mrs. Blake. A strong limbed man, with a dejected face, relieved her of the basket and then hurried away, she rapidly following. I felt sorry for them, and was speculating what news Daniel had brought of his sick wife, quite forgetting for the time that I too had need to be astir. The conductor, however, soon reminded me of the fact as he announced briskly that a carriage was in waiting for me. "They will send down bye-and-bye for your luggage; it's only a one-seated affair outside."