"Yes, oh, yes; I like it all--_here_. It's only that I was thinking, all of a sudden, about that Mr. Denby. I was wondering if I should like it there--with him." "I think you will, dear." "But it'll all be so new and--and different from what I've been used to. Don't you see?" "Of course, my dear; but that's the way we grow--by encountering things new and different, you see. But come, we've got lots of things new and different right here that we haven't even seen yet. I'm going hunting for a wardrobe," finished the mother lightly, springing to her feet and picking up her hat and coat. It was a pretty little apartment of five rooms up one flight, convenient, and tastefully furnished. "I don't think even Burke could find fault with this," thought Helen, a bit wistfully, as her eyes lingered on the soft colorings and harmonious blendings of rugs and hangings. Aloud she said:-- "Dear me! I feel just like a little girl with a new doll-house, don't you?" "Yes; and when our trunks come, and we get our photographs and things out, it will be lovely, won't it?" Helen, at one of the windows, gave a sudden exclamation. "Why, Betty, from this window we can see--" "See what?" cried Betty, hurrying to the window, as her mother's words came to an abrupt halt. "The city, dear, so much of it, and--and all those beautiful houses over there," stammered Helen. "See that church with the big dome, and the tall spire next it; and all those trees--that must be a park," she hurried on, pointing out anything and everything but the one big old colonial house with its tall pillars that stood out so beautifully fine and clear against the green of a wide lawn on the opposite hill. "Oh-h! what a lovely view!" exclaimed Betty, at her side. "Why, I hadn't noticed it at all before, but we're on a hill ourselves, aren't we?" "Yes, dear,--West Hill. That's what I think they used to call it." Helen was not at the window now. She had turned back into the room with almost an indifferent air. But afterwards, when Betty was busy elsewhere, she went again to the window and stood for long minutes motionless, her eyes on the big old house on the opposite hill. It was ablaze, now, for the last rays of the sun had set every window gorgeously aflame. And not until it stood again gray and cold in the gathering dusk did Helen turn back into the room; and then it was with tear-wet eyes and a long sigh. Getting settled was much the same thing that getting settled is always apt to be. There were the same first scrappy, unsatisfying meals, the same slow-emerging order from seemingly hopeless confusion, the same shifting of one's belongings from shelf to drawer and back again. In this case, however, there were only the trunks and their contents to be disposed of, and the getting settled was, after all, a short matter. Much to Betty's disapproval, her mother early announced her intention of doing without a maid.