"We can but change it, Dorothy, if it should not be to his taste. But I have thought of another difficulty, which cannot be so easily remedied. What of the piano?" and she turned an anxious eye on Dorothy. "How will he be able to write his sermons with the eternal thumping of the children on the instrument? It will be enough to drive a nervous man from the house." "How, indeed?" said Dorothy. "We must move the piano." "But where?" "To the Farm." "By no means. You provoking little puss! It is the only handsome piece of furniture in the house." "We can place it in the dining-room, and only practice when he is absent on parish business. If he is such a good, kind man as he is represented, he will do all in his power to accommodate the females of the household." "We will try that plan. But what about the noise of the children?" "The children are very quiet, and always do as they are bid. I am sure no reasonable person can find fault with them." The women chatted and worked on merrily, and before the church bell tolled six, the south room was arranged entirely to their own satisfaction. The windows were draped in snowy white, the casements shone clear as the air, and tables, and chairs, and book-stands had received an extra polish from the indefatigable hands of Dorothy, and she commenced the arrangement of two large boxes of books that had arrived by the London carrier, in the cases which had been forwarded for their reception. This last labour of love she performed very slowly, stopping to peep into every volume as she dusted it. The Latin and Greek authors were quickly disposed of, and the huge tomes of divinity scarcely attracted any notice, but some fine works on botany and natural history chained her attention. The plates were so beautiful that, in spite of sundry implied remonstrances from Mrs. Martin, who was fidgetty lest the vicar should arrive before all was completed, she could not resist the temptation of looking at them, and even called in Harry and little Johnnie to share her delight. "I like the lions best," said little Johnnie. "I don't care for that big pussie-cat with the green eyes and the long tail. It looks as if it could scratch," and he put his fat fingers vigorously down upon the Bengal tiger. "Yes, and eat you afterwards," said Harry. "I don't like lions and tigers. I love these beautiful flowers, they make me think of the angels, they look so pure and lovely, and darling Dorothy loves them too," and he leaned his head back upon Dorothy's white arm, and looked earnestly up into her smiling face. Dorothy pressed the little curly head fondly against her breast.