A walnut chest of drawers, beautifully grained and well polished, four chairs of the same wood, a large table with one of those green cloth covers sometimes seen in country cottages, a straw-bottom armchair, with a footstool--such was the unpretending furniture. There was, too, in the recess in one of the windows, the cage of the two canaries, faithful companions of Miss Dimpleton. By one of those notable inventions which arise only in the minds of poor people, the cage was set in the middle of a large chest, a foot in depth, upon the table: this chest, which Miss Dimpleton called the garden of her birds, was filled with earth, covered with moss during the winter, and in the spring with turf and flowers. Rudolph gazed into this apartment with interest and curiosity; he perfectly comprehended the joyous humor of this young girl; he pictured the silence disturbed by the warbling birds, and the singing of Miss Dimpleton. In the summer, doubtless, she worked near the open window, half hidden by a verdant curtain of sweet pea, nasturtium, and blue and white morning-glories; in the winter, she sat by the side of the stove, enlivened by the soft light of her lamp. * * * * * * * Rudolph was thus far in these reflections, when, looking mechanically at the door, he noticed a strong bolt--a bolt that would not have been out of place on the door of a prison. This bolt caused him to reflect. It had two meanings, two distinct uses: to shut the door _upon_ lovers within--to shut the door _against_ lovers without. One of these uses would utterly contradict the assertions of Mrs. Pipelet-- the other would confirm them. Rudolph had just arrived at these conclusions, when Miss Dimpleton, turning her head, perceived him, and, without changing her position, said: "What, neighbor! there you are then!" Instantly the pretty leg disappeared under the ample skirt of the currant-colored gown, and Miss Dimpleton added: "Caught you, Cunning!" "I am here, admiring in silence." "And what do you admire, neighbor?" "This pretty little room, for you are lodged like a queen." "Nay, you see, this is my enjoyment. I seldom go out; so at least I may please myself at home." "But I do not find fault. What tasteful curtains! and the drawers--as good as mahogany. You must have spent heaps of money here." "Oh, pray don't remind me of it! I had four hundred and twenty-six francs when I left prison, and almost all is gone." "When you left prison?" "Yes; it is quite a story. But you do not, I hope, think I was in prison for any crime?" "Certainly not; but how was it?" "After the cholera, I found myself alone in the world; I was then, I believe, about ten years of age." "Until that time, who had taken care of you?"