"An old Scotch woman that came here with Amabel's grandmother, who was one of the Grahames of the Border. She knew all the ghost stories about the place, I believe. See, here are more pictures which my unlucky great-grandfather bought in Spain, and here is some curious pottery." "Why do you call him unlucky, aunt?" "Because he spent more money than he could afford, child, and that was very unlucky to those who came after him. We do not use these rooms very much in winter. But this will interest you!" she added, opening a door into a little room with a southern aspect. It was prettily hung with an Indian paper, and contained a couch and chairs of lacquer work, a noble East India cabinet, an old-fashioned spinet and a work-table. A good fire was burning on the hearth, and the sun streaming in at the window made the little room look quite charming. Amabel and I both uttered an exclamation of delight. "I am glad you are pleased!" said Mrs. Deborah. "This, children, was my Sister Leighton's own room, which she fitted up herself, and here your mothers used to sit together with their work and their books, before your mother, Niece Corbet, was married. I do not often come hither—it has sad recollections for me, but you can sit here when you please. I have given orders to have a fire for you, and you shall have your harpsichord in here, and practice as much as you like. Your bedroom is directly above, and here is the stair that leads up to it," opening a door which showed a dark entry and a winding-stair. "How very good you are, aunt!" said Amabel. "I am sure we never thought of having such a lovely room to ourselves. I thought we should sit with you and my Aunt Chloe." "And so you may, as much as you please, and I shall be glad if you can do anything to cheer and amuse poor Chloe, who has been sadly low-spirited ever since her illness. But I know young things like to be by themselves at times, and you have a kind of right to this room." "But will not the fire be very expensive?" I ventured to ask. "In France, we never had a bit of fire except in the kitchen, and sometimes in the work-room, when it was very cold. Sister Bursar said that fire was the most costly of luxuries!" "I dare say it may be in France, where, as I have heard, there is great want of fuel," replied Mrs. Deborah, not at all displeased, as I had half-feared she would be by my question. "Thanks to the near coal mine, and our own woods, great fires are among our cheapest enjoyments. I am glad to see, niece, that you can think of the cost of things. I wish some other people were as considerate. But come, we will go up stairs, and then you must pay your respects to your Aunt Philippa." "How I shall like to sit by this work-table, and think that my dear mother sat here before me!" said Amabel, lingering a moment by the table, and taking up a little prayer-book that lay upon it. "It seems to bring her so near." Mrs. Deborah stopped short and turned about.