“All there is,” Polly answered. “Of course, there’ll have to be a good deal besides. The living-room is so large and beautiful it will make a lovely ward. At each end is a wide casement window, one opening on the road, the other on the wood--where the deer come down. As I said, about five acres of timber-land go with the place. The house is the best located of all on the mountain, with woods on the north which break the heavy winds. There’s a big fireplace in the living-room, and all sorts of pretty nooks and corners, with shelves and bookracks--oh, you’ll go crazy over it, just as I did! The big room is two stories high, and the stairs lead right up from that to a little balcony which runs clear across the side and opens into the bedrooms. The other building is not far away, an inscription in such pretty letters, THE STUDY, is right over the door. You see, the young man is a lawyer, and that was his den. It will do beautifully for a dormitory for the older boys and the doctor that father sends with us--of course, we’ll have to have a doctor.” “Of course,” echoed Mrs. Gresham absently. “The brother and sister gone?” “Yes, nobody left but the housekeeper, Benedicta Clapperton--isn’t that a name? But she’s a dear. She told me she hoped I’d buy the place, for she ‘appertained’ to it, and she ‘cackerlated’ I was the ‘facsimile’ of her ‘dear Miss Flora.’ She adores children, and Sally says she is a wonder in the cooking line; so she will probably stuff the ward with soldiers and sailors and a whole barnyard besides. But I have fallen in love with her, and I believe she will be our strongest asset--just you wait and see!” When Mrs. Gresham and Mrs. Dudley were face to face with the “strongest asset” they recalled Polly’s statement in some surprise. Mrs. Gresham had intuitively pictured the caretaker as middle-aged, plump, and comfortable, with a benevolent smile and a gracious manner. The woman who stood before them was tall, straight, and lean, with a small head and high cheek-bones. Her abundant brown hair was drawn smoothly back from her low forehead and wound into a tight coil on top of her head. Her frankly curious eyes of light gray appeared to size up her visitors in one unafraid glance, and she extended a big, work-hard hand with a drawling “How d’ ye do?” So this was Benedicta! Polly chanced to make a trivial remark, and Mrs. Gresham turned with relief. Although the visitors had stopped on the way for luncheon, the housekeeper insisted that they should “stay to dinner,” and already a small table in the living-room was most attractively set with appointments for three. “Yes, Benedicta can cook,” Mrs. Gresham mentally conceded, as she ate with relish the broiled chicken, creamed pease, hot rye muffins with home-made butter, red raspberry pie, and hot coffee topped with whipped cream.