“It is August, Winnie,” was all Winthrop’s remark.

The front of the house was shut up; they went round.  Old Anderese was cutting wood at the back of the house; but without stopping to enlighten him, Winthrop passed on and led Winnie into the kitchen.  There the kitchen fire was burning as of yore, and on the hearth before it stood Karen, stooping down to oversee her cooking breakfast.  At Winthrop’s voice she started and turned.  She looked at them; and then came a long and prolonged “Oh! —­” of most mingled and varied tone and expression; hands and eyes keeping it company.

“Karen, we have come to see you.”

In perfect silence she shook the hand of each, and then sat down and threw her apron over her face.  Winnie stood still and sobbed; Winthrop walked off.

“Oh, dear,” said the old woman presently rising and coming up to Winnie, —­ “what’s made ye come to see me again?  What did you come for, dear?”

The tone was wondering and caressing, and rejoicing, all in a breath.  Winnie dried her eyes and answered as well as she could.

“Why we wanted to see the old place again, Karen, and to see you; and Governor thought it would do me good to be in the country a little while; and he couldn’t come before, and so we have come up now to stay a few days.  And we’ve brought things to eat, so you needn’t be troubled about that.”

“Ye needn’t,” said old Karen.  “Anderese and me’d find something for you to eat, in all the wide country —­ do ye think we wouldn’t?  And how are you, dear,” said she scanning Winnie’s pale face; —­ “are ye ever yet any stronger?”

Winnie shook her head smiling and answered, “Not much.”

“I see ye ain’t.  Well —­ ye’re the Lord’s child.  He’ll do what he will with his own.  Where did ye come from, dear?”

“Up from Mr. Cowslip’s mill,” said Winnie.  “We came in his sloop last night.”

“The sloop!” said Karen.  “Why then ye haven’t had anything to eat! —­ and what was I thinking of!  Sit down, dear —­ take your own chair, till I get the other room fit for ye; and you shall have breakfast jus’ so soon I can make it.  Where’s the Governor gone to?”

He came in; and Karen’s face grew bright at the sight of him.  All the while she was getting the breakfast he stood talking with her; and all the while, her old face kept the broad gleam of delight that had come into it with his entering the kitchen.  With what zeal that breakfast was cooked for him; with what pleasure it was served.  And while they were eating it, Karen sat in the chimney corner and looked at them, and talked.

“And isn’t the place sold then, Governor?”

“Not yet, Karen —­ in a few weeks it will be.”

“And who’s goin’ to buy it?”

“I don’t know.”

“And ye ain’t goin’ fur to buy it yourself?”

“No Karen —­ I am not rich enough to keep a country house.”

“You had ought to have it,” said Karen.  “It don’t belong to nobody else but you.  And you don’t know who’s a goin’ to have it, Governor?”