"Welcome to my poor house, young ladies!" said Mrs. Thorpe, turning to us as we entered. "I hope I shall be able to make you comfortable, though I am not much used to entertaining ladies of quality. Well, Rebecca, and how do you do?" "Right well, Clarissa, and glad to see thee back!" said a prim little old lady, who rose from her seat behind the counter, and welcomed Mrs. Thorpe with a joy which was more forcibly expressed in her beautiful grey eyes, than in her words. We looked at her in some surprise; taking her in her grey dress, white kerchief and close cap, for a sister of some religious order. "These are the two young ladies whom my brother has brought over from France," said Mrs. Thorpe, after she had shaken hands with her friend. "This is Mrs. Amabel Leighton, and this is Mrs. Lucy Corbet, her companion and kinswoman." The good woman made some kind of salutation, and then began asking questions of Mrs. Thorpe, about her voyage, and answering others in her turn; while we stood patiently, almost forgetting our fatigue in observing the strange new place in which we found ourselves. The shop was a large one for the place and time. It was exquisitely neat, and crammed full of goods—laces, ribbons, fans, china jars, and monsters of all kinds, and the air was quite heavy with the perfume of scented soaps, hair powder, and essences. "But there, my dears, I won't keep you here, when I know you are tired to death. Come up stairs directly. Where is Betsy? How do you do, my lass?" As a stout neat looking servant-maid came in, wiping her hands and greeting her mistress in some language, which no doubt was intended for English, but which her Northumbrian burr, made absolutely unintelligible to me. "I suppose the young ladies' rooms are ready, Betsy!" Betsy signified as much, and Mrs. Thorpe led the way up stairs, and herself introduced us to a little parlor very neatly and prettily furnished, decorated with some beautiful china, and with a great bow pot of flowers standing in the window. There were snow-white curtains to the deep windows, and a Turkey rug, old and faded, but still beautiful, on the centre of the floor. The furniture was heavy and black with age, but bright as rubbing could make it; and what most attracted my attention at the moment, a tall press full of books occupied a recess on one side of the fireplace. From this pretty parlor opened two light closets, each of which held a little bed, a chair, and a dressing-table, with a small round mirror hung over it. The sitting-room window looked out on a small, but neatly kept garden, and through an opening between two great trees at the bottom, we could see the tower of a grand old church. "This will be your room, my dears—young ladies, I should say—as long as you remain with me," said Mrs. Thorpe. "I bade Betsy get it ready, thinking you would like the view into the garden."