It was broad daylight, and the sun had been shining for a long time when at last she woke with a start, and sprang up, wondering where she was, and what had happened.  Then by degrees recollection came back to her, and she began to wonder what she could do.  The old clock in the corner pointed to seven, but there was no sound of movement in the house.  Huldah was afraid to get up and move about, lest Mrs. Perry should suspect her of being at some wickedness; and she was not sorry to lie still, for her limbs ached, and she felt very, very tired, so she stretched herself out on her hard couch, and gave herself up to studying the little kitchen, and all that was in it.

It was very wonderful, she thought, and very lovely.  There were some dark green wooden chairs, and an arm-chair, and a little round table, scrubbed to spotless whiteness.  Above her head, on a window-ledge stood some geraniums in full bloom, and on a row of shelves let into the wall stood a large Bible, with a crochet mat over it, and some other books, some vases and ornaments, and a box covered with shells.  The only other things to see were the grandfather’s clock in the corner, some well-polished bright things on the mantel-piece, a pair of brass candlesticks, a couple of tea-caddies, and a pair of snuffers on a tray.

There were some pictures on the wall, and an almanac.  One picture showed two beautiful horses ploughing a field, a white horse and a brown one, the other was of the same two horses going slowly home, at the end of the day’s work.  The sight of the white horse brought Charlie to Huldah’s mind, and filled her eyes with tears.

“Oh, if only Charlie was here too!” she thought, “and if only he looked like that horse there!”

There was indeed all the difference in the world between the well-fed, well-groomed horse in the picture, with his erect head, his bright eyes and glossy coat, and poor old Charlie, with his bones showing distinctly through his rough, neglected coat, his drooping head and sad eyes!

Huldah looked and looked again at the pictures; she thought they were perfectly beautiful; but by-and-by she began to fidget a little.  She was tired of lying quiet, and the silence and stillness worried her.  She slid off the sofa, and sat on the edge of it, wondering if she might move, if she might go and see Dick, or clean up the grate and light the fire.

Presently there was a whine at the back door.  Dick had come in search of her.  She stood up and quietly made a step or two towards the scullery and the back door, wondering if she would be taking a great liberty to let him in.  She did long to.  And then, while she stood hesitating she heard a voice calling weakly down the stairs, “Little girl—­Huldah, are you there?”

Huldah, greatly relieved, sprang to the foot of the stairs.  She was glad to have the silence broken at last.  “Yes ma’am.  It was only Dick whining to come in.”