We all parted good friends, and I forced myself to bid a civil adieu to Betty. Aunt Amy was careful to put into each of our hands a package of cakes and comfits, that we might not enter our new home empty-handed and thus bring scarcity upon it. Andrew walked at my mother's bridle-rein, as usual, and Rosamond and I walked together. Simon and Jeanne had preceded us. When we reached the house-door, Andrew assisted my mother to alight, and then he and Rosamond took a kind leave of us. He saluted me as usual, but there was a change in his manner toward me which I felt bitterly enough, though I had too much maidenly pride to show it. Then they returned home, and we entered our new house together. Dinah and Jeanne were in the hall to welcome us, and had made a cheerful little fire upon the hearth of our sitting-room, for though the summer was in its prime, the evening was cool, and a little mist was drifting up from the sea. "The place seems home-like, does it not, my Vevette?" said my mother. "I must say I am not sorry to be in my own house once more. Ah, if your father were but here!" "He is in a better home than this, maman," I ventured to say. "True, my child, and we will not wish to call him back again. We shall go to him, but he will not return to us." She kissed me, and we stood a moment in silence. Then my mother roused herself and proposed that we should go through the house. We found everything in beautiful order, and had occasion at every step to admire my aunt's generosity and Andrew's thoughtfulness. There was abundance of fine linen and of blankets and everything in the housekeeping line that could be needed. Dinah displayed with delight the service of real china, and the silver salts, and the dredgers for pepper and spices, and the pots upon pots of preserves and honey which my aunt had provided. My room opened from my mother's, and contained the old French cabinet I had so much admired, and also a little clock, which I knew had been one of Rosamond's chief treasures. From Meg, and marked with her name, was a pretty coverlet of silk patchwork—a kind of work very fashionable at that time, and in which Meg excelled, as she did in most things. From Betty there was a worked cushion, which I am afraid I was spiteful enough to throw into the darkest corner of the closet. From Andrew I had some beautiful china and the loveliest little work-table that could be, besides a case with doors, which being opened I found to contain a portrait of himself, which I suppose he had had painted in London. It was beautifully done, and looked at me with his very eyes and expression—a kind of smiling gravity. The kitchens and offices were filled up with every convenience, and we found Jeanne quite in ecstasies over her little dairy and her two line cows—one a long-horned Devon, the other a comical little black Welsh cow with no horns at all.