Stella led the way to a room much larger and more handsomely furnished than Lucy’s old one at home, though it all looked so strange and unfamiliar, that she wondered whether it would ever seem home to her.  Stella showed her all its conveniences and arrangements for her comfort, and then observed, “But you’re not to have it all to yourself;” which Lucy heard with some disappointment, for she had been always accustomed at home to have a room to herself, and hoped to have one still.

“Amy’s to sleep with you, and I think you’ll like her.  She’s a good little thing, though she’s not a bit pretty; and she’s named after your mamma, you know, who was my Aunt Amy.  It sounds odd, doesn’t it?  Ada and I sleep together, because we get on best; and Sophy can’t be troubled with a child sleeping with her, especially as Amy is delicate, and sometimes restless at night.  Do you think you’ll mind having her?”

“Oh no!” said Lucy, somewhat relieved.  “I always used to think I should like to have a little sister of my own.”

“Here she is, to speak for herself,” said Stella, as the door opened, and a fragile-looking little girl of about seven timidly peeped in.

“Come in, Amy, and be introduced.”

The child stole quietly in, encouraged by Lucy’s smile, and held out to her a hand so thin and tiny, that she thought she had never felt anything like it before.  Amy had fair hair and a colourless complexion; but when the soft grey eyes looked up wistfully at Lucy, and a sweet smile lighted up the pale face, her cousin thought Stella hardly justified in calling her “not a bit pretty.”

“So you’re my little cousin Amy?” said Lucy, kissing her.  “And you’re going to sleep with me and be my little sister, are you not?”

Amy nodded.  She evidently had not Stella’s flow of language.

“Shall I help you to unpack, Lucy?” interposed her loquacious cousin, “or would you rather lie down and rest awhile?”

Lucy preferred the latter.  She wanted to be alone; and as she was very tired with the fatigue and excitement of the journey and arrival, it is scarcely to be wondered at that, when she was left alone, she found relief in a hearty fit of crying.  However, she soon remembered she could do something better than that, so she knelt to thank her heavenly Father for His protecting care during her journey.  She asked, too, that as she was far away from all dear home friends and familiar surroundings, she might be helped to love those around her now, and to do her duty in her new circumstances.

Her heart was much lighter and calmer now, and she was nearly ready to go down to dinner, when Stella came in to help her, and to insist on arranging her hair in a new fashion she had lately learned, before escorting her down to the dining-room.  Lucy had dreaded a good deal her introduction to her uncle, of whom she had not a very pleasant impression.  He was a brisk, shrewd-looking man, a great contrast to his listless-looking son; and his manner, though patronizing, was not ungenial, as Lucy had feared it would be, from his harsh opinions, quoted by Stella, in regard to the poor.  All the rest of the family she had already seen, Edwin being the only son who had survived, and on that account, probably, a good deal spoilt.