On the evening of which we write, the warm sunlight lay softly on the hillside, revealing the red and white daisies which nestled everywhere in the rich green grass.  A shaggy dog was basking in the open space before the house door, lazily glancing about now and then to see what was stirring.  All was quiet, however, and he peacefully dozed again after each survey.  Occasionally a young, gray cat peeped slily forth from beneath the door-step, stared at the motionless sleeper and cautiously withdrew again.  Everything denoted peace and quiet except certain sounds of voices and of great activity which proceeded from the back of the house, where the door leading into the garden, stood open.

Presently wheels were heard, and a wagon drove up and stopped before the door of the widow’s cottage.  The dog opened his eyes and pointed his ears, but it was evidently not worth while to growl at something in the next place, so he dozed off again at once.  The newly-arrived guests descended from the carriage, and entered the cottage in silence.  There they were cordially welcomed by Mrs. Kurd, and shown to the rooms reserved for them, and soon Aunt Ninette was busy in the large chamber unpacking her big trunk, while Dora in her little bedroom soon emptied her little box and put her clothes in the other room, which was to be his study, Uncle Titus also sat at a square table, busy placing his writing materials in readiness for work.  Dora ran again and again to the window, whence she saw very different sights from any she had ever looked upon before.  Green fields sprinkled with many-colored flowers, the blue lake, the snow-capped mountains in the distance, and over all, the enchantment of the golden-green light from the setting sun.  The child could scarcely tear herself away from the window.  She did not know that the world could be so beautiful.  But her aunt soon recalled her from her wonderment, for there were still things to be put away which belonged to her, but had been brought in her aunt’s trunk.

“Oh, Aunt Ninette,” cried the child, “Isn’t it perfectly beautiful?”

She spoke louder than she had ever thought of speaking in Uncle Titus’ house, for the new scenes had aroused her natural sprightliness, and she was herself once more.

“Hush, hush Dora!  Why, I don’t know what to make of you, child!  Don’t you know that your uncle is in the next room, and is already at work?”

Dora took her things from her aunt’s hands, but while passing the window, she asked softly,

“May I just look out of these windows a minute now, Aunt?  I want to see what there is on every side of the house.”

“Yes, yes, you may look out for a moment.  There is nobody about.  A quiet garden lies beyond the hedge.  From the other window you see the big open space in front of the great house.  Nothing else but the sleeping watch-dog before the door.  I hope he is always as quiet.  You may look out there too, if you like.”