"It is a beautiful room!" said Amabel. "Dear Mrs. Thorpe, how kind you are to us. But you must not let us take up the best part of your house." "Oh! I have plenty of room, never fear," answered Mrs. Thorpe smiling. "The house is a large one. I used to take lodgers, but I don't do it any more. My shop gives me enough to look to, and I have been wonderfully prospered and cared for. These books and most of the furniture of this room, belonged to my honored father; and were placed here for my sister Mary—the one I told you of—when she came to make her home with me. See! Here are your mails—and I dare say you will like to wash, and change your clothes. It is always the first thing I want to do when I come off the ship." A stout serving-man, who looked as if he had never been hungry in his life, brought up our little trunks. Betsy, who had left the room for a minute, followed him with a great can of hot water, and a heap of clean towels; and Mrs. Thorpe left us to our toilets. Mine was soon made, and as the window was open, I ventured to satisfy my curiosity, by leaning out. I made the discovery that our next door neighbors were very quiet ones. The house stood near a small grey-stone church, standing in a church-yard thickly sown with stones, and unmarked graves. On the other side, our garden was bounded by a high wall on which was trained a vine of some sort; over this, I could just see a bit of what looked like a grand mansion of brick and stone. I announced my discovery to Amabel, who came to look in her turn. "Yes, it all seems quiet and nice," said she, "and the room is very pretty. I did not think there could be such a pretty place in this ugly town." "It is dreadfully ugly, at least all we have seen of it," I admitted. "Perhaps it is not all so. You know Mrs. Thorpe said we came through a poor part of it. See what a pretty house that is beyond the church-yard, where the gentleman is just coming out. There, he is coming to the church. I wonder if he can be the priest." "He does not look like one, though I am sure I don't know what an English priest does look like. But, Lucy, what would Mother Prudentia say to our staring out of window at a strange man?" I drew back quickly enough, feeling, I don't know why, rather vexed at Amabel's words. The gentleman in question was a tall, stout young man of thirty, or thereabouts, not at all handsome, but with something very attractive in his face. He was twirling a thick stick, and whistling to a rough little dog, which ran to and fro among the monuments. Somehow I took a liking to that gentleman the moment I saw him. There was a kind of real manliness about him which made one feel that he was a person to be relied upon in case of danger or distress. I took another peep and saw that he was pulling up some weeds from a baby's grave.