"Just a little before dark, on her grey pony. She came in for a minute, and I took her--that'll burn, Sally!--I took her in to see the child while she was asleep, and I told her all you told me about her. She didn't say much, but she looked at her very sweet, as she always does, and I guess--there--now I'll see after my little sleeper." And presently Mrs. Van Brunt came to the bedside with a light, and her arms full of Ellen's dry clothes. Ellen felt as if she could have put her arms round her kind old friend and hugged her with all her heart; but it was not her way to show her feelings before strangers. She suffered Mrs. Van Brunt to dress her in silence, only saying with a sigh, "How kind you are to me, ma'am;" to which the old lady replied with a kiss, and telling her she mustn't say a word about that. The kitchen was bright with firelight and candlelight; the tea-table looked beautiful with its piles of white splitters, besides plenty of other and more substantial things; and at the corner of the hearth sat Mr. Van Brunt. "So," said he, smiling, as Ellen came in and took her stand at the opposite corner, "so I drove you away this morning? You ain't mad with me yet, I hope." Ellen crossed directly over to him, and putting her little hand in his great rough one, said, "I am very much obliged to you, Mr. Van Brunt, for taking so much trouble to come and look after me." She said it with a look of gratitude and trust that pleased him very much. "Trouble, indeed!" said he good-humouredly, "I'll take twice as much any day for what you wouldn't give me this forenoon. But never fear, Miss Ellen, I ain't a-goin' to ask you that again." He shook the little hand, and from that time Ellen and her rough charioteer were firm friends. Mrs. Van Brunt now summoned them to table, and Ellen was well feasted with the splitters, which were a kind of rich short-cake baked in irons, very thin and crisp, and then split in two and buttered, whence their name. A pleasant meal was that. Whatever an epicure might have thought of the tea, to Ellen, in her famished state, it was delicious; and no epicure could have found fault with the cold ham and the butter and the cakes; but far better than all was the spirit of kindness that was there. Ellen feasted on that more than on anything else. If her host and hostess were not very polished, they could not have been outdone in their kind care of her and kind attention to her wants. And when the supper was at length over, Mrs. Van Brunt declared a little colour had come back to the pale cheeks. The colour came back in good earnest a few minutes after, when a great tortoise-shell cat walked into the room. Ellen jumped down from her chair, and presently was bestowing the tenderest caresses upon pussy, who stretched out her head and purred as if she liked them very well. "What a nice cat," said Ellen. "She has five kittens," said Mrs. Van Brunt. "Five kittens!" said Ellen. "Oh, may I come some time and see them?"