build a fire, and I'll have the coffee made in no time. There must be a coffee-pot, or a tin cup, or something to boil in. The chops can be broiled over the coals."

"On what?" asked Ralph.

"You can get a pointed stick and toast them, if there is no other way, sir. And you need not make fun of my supper; the chops are very nice ones, and I have wrapped them up in oiled silk, so that they will not grease the other things."

"Oh, don't talk any more about them," exclaimed Ralph. "It makes me too dreadfully hungry."

"If it is a cottage," remarked Miriam, looking reflectively out of the window, "I cannot get it out of mind that there will be all sorts of kitchen things hanging around the old-fashioned fireplace. That would be very nice and convenient, but—"

"You hope it is not a cottage?" said her brother.

"Well," answered Miriam, presently, "home is home, and I made up my mind to be perfectly satisfied with it whatever kind of house it may be. It seems to me that a real home ought to be like parents and relations; we've got them, and we can't change them, and we never think of such a thing. We love them quite as they are. But I cannot help hoping, just a little, that it is not a cottage. The only ones I have ever been in smelt so much of soapsuds."

It was now quite dark, and the road appeared to be growing rougher. Every now and then they jolted over a big stone, or sunk into a deep rut. Ralph let down the front window.

"Are we nearly there?" he asked of the driver.

"Yes, sir," said the man; "we are on the place now."

"You don't mean," exclaimed Miriam, "that this is our road!"

"It's a good deal washed just here," said the man, "by the heavy rains."

Presently the road became smoother and in a few minutes the carriage stopped.

"I am trembling all over," said Miriam, "with thinking of being at home, and with not an idea of what it is like."

In a moment they were standing on a broad flagstone. Although it was dark, they could see the outline of the house before them.

"Ralph," whispered Miriam, drawing close to her brother, "it is not a cottage." Without waiting for a reply she went on: "Ralph," she said, her hands trembling as they held his arm, "it is lordly."

"I had some sort of an idea like that myself," he answered; "but, my dear, don't you think it will be well to keep this man until we go inside and see what sort of accommodations we shall find? Perhaps we may be obliged to go back to the town."

Miriam immediately began to ascend the broad steps of the piazza.

"Come on, Ralph," she said, "and please don't talk like that."

Her brother laughed, paid the driver and dismissed him.

"Now, little girl," he cried, "we have burned our ships, and must take what we shall find."

"Oh, Ralph," cried Miriam, "I couldn't have gone back. If there are floors to the rooms, they will do to sleep on for to-night."

At this moment a wide front door opened, revealing a colored woman holding a lamp.

"Good evenin'," said she; "walk in."

When Ralph and Miriam had entered, the woman looked out the open door.

"Is you all?" she asked.

"Oh, yes," said Ralph.

The woman hesitated a moment, looked out again, and then closed the door.

"Would you like to go to your rooms afore supper?" she asked.

The brother and sister were so absorbed in gazing about them, that they did not hear the question. The lamp, still in the woman's hand, gave a poor and vacillating light, but they could see a wide, long hall, tall doors opening on each side, some high-backed chairs, and other dark-colored furniture.

"Yer rooms is ready," continued the woman; "ye can take yer pick of them. Supper'll be on the table the minute ye come down. Ye'd better take this lamp, sir, and thar's another one in the upper hall. I expect ye two is brother and sister. Ye're alike as two pins of different sizes."

"You're right," said Ralph, holding up the lamp, and looking about him; "but please tell me, where are the stairs?"

"Oh, yer open that glass door right in front of ye," said the woman. "I'd go with yer, but I smell somethin' bilin' over now."

Opening the glass door, they saw before them a narrow staircase in two flights.

"Stairs shut up in a room of their own," said Ralph, as they ascended.
"Did you ever see anything like this before?"

"I never saw anything like anything before," said Miriam, in a low, reverent voice.

On the floor above they found another wide hall, and four or five open doors.

"There is your lamp," said Ralph to his sister; "take the first room you come to, and to-morrow we will pick and choose."

"Who would have thought," said Miriam, "that a woman—"

"Don't let us think or talk of her now," interrupted her brother. "To hurry down to supper is our present business."

When the two went downstairs, they found the colored woman standing by an open door in the rear of the hall.

"Supper's ready, sir," said she, and they entered the dining-room.

It was a large and rather sparely furnished room, but Miriam and Ralph took no note of anything except the table, which stood in the middle of the floor, lighted by a hanging lamp. It was a large table and arranged for eight people with chairs at every place. The woman gave a little laugh, as she said:—

"I reckon you all may think this is a pretty big table for two people, an' one not growed up, but you see I didn't know nothin' about the size of the family, an' Mike he didn't know nothin' either. I'm Phoebe, Mike's wife, an' I ain't got nothin' in the world to do with this house, for mostly I go out to service in the town, but I'm here now; and of course we didn't want you all to come an' find nothin' to eat, an' no beds made, an' as you didn't write no orders, sir, we had just to do the best we could accordin' to our own lights. I reckoned there would be the gem'en and his wife, an' perhaps two growed-up sons, though Mike, he was doubtful about the growed-up sons, especially as to thar bein' two of them. Then I reckoned thar'd be a darter, just about your age, Miss, an' then there'd be two younger chillen, one a boy an' one a girl, an' a gov'ness for these two. Of course I didn't know whether the gov'ness was in the habit of eatin' at your table or not, but I reckoned that this time, comin' so late, you'd all eat at the same table, an' I put a plate an' a cheer for her. An' Mike went ter town, an' got groc'ries an' things enough for to-night and tomorrow, an' as everything was ready I just left everything as it was. I reckoned you wouldn't want ter wait until I'd sot the whole table over again."

"By no means," cried Ralph, and down they sat, Ralph at one end of the long table, and Miriam at the other. It was a good supper; beefsteak, an omelet, hot rolls, fried potatoes, coffee, tea, preserved fruit, and all on the scale suited to a family of eight.

When Phoebe had retired to the kitchen, presumably for additional supplies, Miriam stretched her arms over the table.

"Think of it, Ralph," she said, "this is our supper. The first meal we ever truly owned."

They had not been long at the table when they were startled by the loud ringing of the door-bell.

"'Pon my word," ejaculated Phoebe, "it's a long time since that bell's been rung," and getting down a