Then Miss Hetty led the way through a door at the left of the hall into a big, comfortable room, the walls of which were lined with book-cases. There was a bow window around which ran a cushioned seat; there were lounging chairs and rocking chairs, and a long sofa; a great round mahogany table covered with books and papers; and, best of all, a fireplace with a bright fire burning under the black pot which hung on the iron crane; and, guarding the fire, were two soldierly figures with stern profiles. “These were my great-great-grandfather’s andirons,” said Miss Pomeroy, as she watched Polly’s eyes. “Suppose you sit down by the fire and get warmed through, for there was a little chill in the air, after all; and you might take a book to amuse yourself. I have to be busy with something for awhile. Would you--I suppose you wouldn’t care to look at the newspaper?” questioned Miss Pomeroy, doubtfully. “The child looks so absurdly young,” she thought, “and yet she talks as if she were fifty.” “No’m, thank you,” said Polly; “I will just look at the fire and the books;” so Miss Pomeroy opened another door that led into the great front hall, and went out of the room. She left the door open, and Polly could hear a solemn ticking. She tiptoed to the door and, looking out into the hall, saw a tall clock with a great white face, above which there was a silvery moon in her last quarter. Polly looked at the slowly-swinging pendulum with shining eyes. “That must be Mrs. Ramsdell’s clock,” she said, softly. “I mean her father’s. She described it just that way, and she said its like was never seen in these parts; no, it was those parts,” said Polly, correcting herself, “for it was ’way off in Connecticut. Well, then, there must have been two made alike, and Mrs. Ramsdell never knew it; I guess I won’t tell her, for she might be sorry.” Polly stood a moment in the doorway; she could hear the sound of Miss Pomeroy’s voice in some distant part of the house. She tiptoed back into the library. The carpet was so thick and soft that Polly knelt down and rubbed it gently with her little hand; then she put her head down and pressed her cheek against the faded roses. “It feels like Ebenezer’s fur,” said Polly. “I wonder if Ebenezer will miss me.” Polly sat still for a moment with wistful eyes, and then hastily scrambled to her feet as the door into the side hall opened partway and Arctura stuck her head in. “Here,” she said, dropping a struggling heap on the floor, “I thought maybe you’d like to see these two little creatures; I call ’em Snip and Snap, and I’ve had a chase to find ’em for you. There’s nothing they can break in the library, so Miss Hetty lets ’em run wild once in a while. I’ll just shut that other door.”