"Pretty lamb!" said the good woman. "She'll sleep all the afternoon now, like enough, and wake up feeling a good bit better,--though I fear it will be a long time before your girlie feels at home with Nurse Lucy, Miss Mildred, dear!" Sure enough, Hilda did sleep all the afternoon; and the soft summer twilight was closing round the farm-house when she woke with a start from a dream of home. "Mamma!" she called quickly, raising herself from the bed. For one moment she stared in amazement at the strange room, with its unfamiliar furnishing; but recollection came only too quickly. She started up as a knock was heard at the door, and Dame Hartley's voice said: "Hilda, dear, supper is ready, and I am sure you must be very hungry. Will you come down with me?" "Oh! thank you, presently," said Hildegarde, hastily. "I am not--I haven't changed my dress yet. Don't wait for me, please!" "Dear heart, don't think of changing your dress!" said Dame Hartley. "You are a country lassie now, you know, and we are plain farm people. Come down just as you are, there's a dear!" Hilda obeyed, only waiting to wash her burning face and hot, dry hands in the crystal-cold water which she poured out of the blue dragon pitcher. Her hair was brushed back and tied with a ribbon, the little curls combed and patted over her forehead; and in a few minutes she followed her hostess down the narrow staircase, with a tolerably resigned expression on her pretty face. To tell the truth, Hilda felt a great deal better for her long nap; moreover she was a little curious, and very, very hungry,--and oh, how good something did smell!