So saying, he again relapsed into silence, and commenced whipping at the thistle tops and dandelions.  As they rode on, Mary fancied that the country looked pleasanter and the houses better, than in the region of the poor-house; and when a sudden turn of the road brought into view a beautiful blue sheet of water, embosomed by bright green hills, her delight knew no bounds.  Springing up and pointing towards it, she exclaimed, “Oh, please stop a moment and look.  Isn’t it lovely!  What is it?”

“That?  Oh, that’s nothing but ’Pordunk Pond, or as folks most generally call ’em, seem’ there’s two, North and South Pond.”

“But it’s big enough to be a lake, isn’t it?” asked Mary.

“Why, yes,” returned her companion.  “It’s better than five miles long, and a mile or so wide, and in York State I s’pose they’d call it a lake, but here in old Massachusetts we stick to fust principles, and call all things by their right names.”

“How far is the pond from Mrs. Mason’s?” asked Mary, casting longing glances towards the distant sandy beach, and the graceful trees which drooped over the water’s edge.

“It’s farther back than ’tis there, ’cause it’s up bill all the way,” said Mr. Knight, “but here we be at Miss Mason’s,—­this house right here,” and he pointed to a neat, handsome cottage, almost hidden from view by the dense foliage which surrounded it.

There was a long lawn in front, and into the carriage road on the right of it Mr. Knight turned, and driving up to a side door; said to Mary, “Come, jump down, for my foot is so lame I don’t believe I’ll get out.  But there’s your chest.  You can’t lift that.  Hallo, Judith, come ’ere.”

In answer to this call, a fat, pleasant-looking colored woman appeared in the doorway, and as if fresh from the regions of cookdom, wiped the drops of perspiration from her round jolly face.

“Here, Judith,” said Mr Knight, “help this gal lift her traps out.”

Judith complied, and then bidding old Charlotte to “get up,” Mr. Knight drove away, leaving Mary standing by the kitchen door.

“Come in and sit down,” said Judith, pushing a chair towards Mary with her foot.  “It’s as hot here as oven, but I had crambry sass and ginger snaps, and massy knows what to make this morning, and I got belated; but set down and make yourself to home.”

Mary took the proffered seat, and then Judith left the room for a few moments, saying when she returned, that as Mrs. Mason was still suffering from a headache, she could not see Mary until after dinner.  “And,” continued Judith “she told me to entertain you, but I don’t know what to say, nor do first.  Harry died just a week to a day before he was to be married, and so I never had any little girls to talk to.  Can’t you think of something to talk about?  What have you been used to doing?”

“Washing dishes,” was Mary’s reply, after glancing about the room, and making sure that on this occasion there were none to wash.