The stage stopped at the business end of Farmdale. Around three sides of a sandy square were grouped the village hotel, the post-office, and its few stores and shops; on the fourth side this square opened on a long stretch of velvety green turf, around which, set in deep yards, surrounded by trees, and embowered in shrubbery, were the comfortable, well-ordered village homes. In the centre of this green, and midway its length a fountain was falling into a circular stone basin and from that flowing into a stone watering-trough, where a white horse with a barefooted boy on its back was drinking. Beyond the fountain the ground rose slightly and crowning this gentle swell three white churches set side by side lifted their spires against the blue sky. Posey walked slowly along the maple-shaded path, with bright colored leaves above her and bright colored leaves rustling under her feet, charmed with the peaceful air, the quiet beauty, and looking carefully for a house to answer Ben Pancost’s description. It was not long till she saw it—a modest white house with green blinds, the walls almost covered with climbing roses and honeysuckles, while over the front door hung the sign, its gilt lettering somewhat faded by time and storms, MILLINERY AND DRESSMAKING. A great lilac bush stood on each side of the small white gate by which she entered, while syringas, flowering quince, and thickets of roses gave promise of springtime bloom. The narrow, stone-flagged walk that led to the side door was fringed with flowers, and ran along the edge of a grassy bank or low terrace, below which were more flower beds bordered with China pinks, besides homelier beds of garden vegetables, while under sheltering rows of currant bushes a flock of white chickens rolled in the dirt at their ease. Beyond the house lay an orchard, and the side porch at which the walk ended was shaded by a great grapevine heavy with purple clusters. A Maltese cat, sunning itself in sleepy content on the steps, roused as she came up and rubbed against her with a friendly purr. Over all the sunny little homestead rested an air of thrift, order, peace, that filled Posey with a sense of restfulness; why she could hardly have told.