When the sun rose again and Chip awoke, she scarce knew where she was. Outside, and almost reaching the one window of her little room, was the top of an apple tree in full bloom. Below she could hear ducks quacking, now and then a barnyard monarch's defiant crow, from farther away came the rippling sound of running water, and as she lay and listened to the medley, a robin lit on the tree-top not ten feet away and chirped as he peered into her window. A scent of lavender mingled with apple blossoms became noticeable; then the few and very old-fashioned fittings of the room,--a chest of drawers with little brass handles, over it a narrow mirror with gilt frame, two wood-seated chairs painted blue, and white muslin curtains draped away from the window. And now, conscious that she was in some strange place, back in an instant came the three days of her long, weary tramp, the nights when she had slept in a sheep barn and in a deserted dwelling, and at last, faint, footsore, and almost hopeless, she had been rescued from another night with only the sky for a roof. Then the quaint old man, so much like Old Cy, whom she had accosted, the rattling, bumping ride down into this valley, and the halt where a cheery light beamed its welcome and a motherly woman made it real. It was all so unexpected, so satisfying, so protective of herself, that Chip could hardly realize how it had come about. No questions had been asked of her here. These two quaint old people had taken her as she was--dusty, dirty, and travel-worn. She had bathed and been helped to an ample meal and shown to this sweet-smelling room as if she had been their own daughter. "They must be awful kind sort o' people," Chip thought, and then creeping out of bed she dressed, and taking her stockings and sadly worn shoes in hand softly descended the stairs. No one seemed astir anywhere. The ticking of a tall clock in the sitting room was the only sound, the back door was wide open, and out of this Chip passed and, seating herself on a bench, began putting on stockings and shoes. This was scarce done ere she heard a step and saw the old man emerge from the same door. "Wal, Pattycake, how air ye?" he asked, smiling. "I heerd ye creepin' downstairs like a mouse, but I was up, 'n' 'bout dressed. Hope ye slept well. It's Sunday," he added, without waiting for a reply, "an' we don't git up quite so arly ez usual. Ye can help Mandy 'bout breakfast now, if ye like, 'n' I'll do the milkin'." And this marked the entry of Chip into the new home, and outlined her duties. No more questions were asked of her. She was taken at her own valuation--a needy girl, willing to work for her board, insisting on it, and yet, in a few days, so hospitable were these people and so winsome was Chip, that she stepped into their affection, as it were, almost without effort.