"Nor I; but truth obliges me to say, the Captain does not permit anybody to take liberties with him. He is a character, Captain Parry. Come out on the lawn, Ellen, and we will let Margery clear away." "What a pleasant face Margery has!" said Ellen, as the door closed behind them; "and what a pleasant way she has of speaking! I like to hear her; the words come out so clear, and I don't know how, but not like other people." "You have a quick ear, Ellen; you are very right. Margery had lived too long in England before she came here to lose her trick of speech afterwards. But Thomas speaks as thick as a Yankee, and always did." "Then Margery is English?" said Ellen. "To be sure. She came over with us twelve years ago for the pure love of my father and mother; and I believe now she looks upon John and me as her own children. I think she could scarcely love us more if we were so in truth. Thomas — you haven't seen Thomas yet, have you?" "No." "He is an excellent good man in his way, and as faithful as the day is long — but he isn't equal to his wife. Perhaps I am partial; Margery came to America for the love of us, and Thomas came for the love of Margery — there's a difference." "But, Miss Alice!" — "What, Miss Ellen?" "You said Margery came over _with you?_" "Yes; is that what makes you look so astonished?" "But then you are English, too?" "Well, what of that? you won't love me the less, will you?" "Oh, no," said Ellen; "my own mother came from Scotland, Aunt Fortune says." "I am English born, Ellen, but you may count me half American, if you like, for I have spent rather more than half my life here. Come this way, Ellen, and I'll show you my garden. It is some distance off, but as near as a spot could be found fit for it." They quitted the house by a little steep path leading down the mountain, which in two or three minutes brought them to a clear bit of ground. It was not large, but lying very prettily among the trees, with an open view to the east and south-east. On the extreme edge, and at the lower end of it, was fixed a rude bench, well sheltered by the towering forest trees. Here Alice and Ellen sat down. It was near sunset; the air cool and sweet; the evening light upon field and sky. "How fair it is!" said Alice, musingly — "how fair and lovely! Look at those long shadows of the mountains, Ellen; and how bright the light is on the far hills! It won't be so long. A little while more, and our Indian summer will be over — and then the clouds, the frost, and the wind, and the snow. Well — let them come." "I wish they wouldn't, I am sure," said Ellen. "I am sorry enough they are coming." "Why? all seasons have their pleasures. I am not sorry at all; I like the cold very much." "I guess you wouldn't, Miss Alice, if you had to wash every morning where I do?" "Why, where is that?" "Down at the spout." "At the _spout_ — what is that, pray?"