“My gracious I my gracious!  Won’t Mrs. Melville be beat!  Of course you’re her folks she was expecting from the West, ain’t you?  I mistrusted it somehow as soon as I heard the big knock.  Now I’ll jest let you in the back door.  Oh my, Mis’ Melville’ll never get over this; to think of her be’n’ away, an’ she’s been lookin’ and looking and worryin’ for two weeks, because she didn’t hear from you; and only last night Captain Melville he said he’d write to-day if they didn’t hear.’”

“We wrote,” said Draxy, in her sweet, low voice, “we wrote to Aunt Emma that we’d come to-day.”

“Now did you!” said the jolly voice.  “Well, that’s jest the way.  You see your letter’s gone somewhere else, and now Mis’ Melville she’s gone to”—­the rest of the sentence was lost, for the breathless little woman was running round the house to the back door.

In a second more the upper half of the big old-fashioned door had swung open, to Draxy’s great delight, who exclaimed, “Oh, father, we read about such doors as this in that Knickerbocker book, don’t you remember?”

But good Mrs. Carr was drawing them into the house, giving them neighborly welcome, all the while running on in such voluble ejaculatory talk that the quiet, saddened, recluse-like people were overwhelmed with embarrassment, and hardly knew which way to turn.  Presently she saw their confusion and interrupted herself with—­

“Well, well, you’re jest all tired out with your journey, an’ a cup o’ tea’s the thing you want, an’ none o’ my talk; but you see Mis’ Melville ’n me’s so intimate that I feel’s if I’d known you always, ’n I’m real glad to see you here, real glad; ’n I’ll bring the tea right over; the kettle was a boilin’ when I run out, ’n I’ll send Jim right down town for Captain Melville; he’s sure to be to the library.  Oh, but won’t Mis’ Melville be beat,” she continued, half way down the steps; and from the middle of the street she called back, “’an she ain’t coming home till to-morrow night.”

Reuben and Jane and Draxy sat down with as bewildered a feeling as, if they had been transported to another world.  The house was utterly unlike anything they had ever seen; high ceilings, wainscoted walls, wooden cornices and beams, and wooden mantels with heads carved on the corners.  It seemed to them at first appallingly grand.  Presently they observed the bare wooden floors, the flag-bottomed chairs, and faded chintz cushions, the row of old tin utensils, and plain, cheap crockery in the glass-doored cupboard, and felt more at home.

“You know Aunt Emma said they were poor, too,” said Draxy, answering her own unspoken thought as well as her father’s and mother’s.

Reuben pushed his hair off his warm forehead and sighed.

“I suppose we might go up-stairs, mother,” he said; “that’s to be our house, as I understand it”

Draxy bounded at the words.  With flying steps she ascended the stairs and opened the first door.  She stood still on the threshold, unable to move from astonishment.  It was still light enough to see the room.  Draxy began to speak, but broke down utterly, and bursting out crying, threw herself into the arms of her father who had just reached the top of the stairs.