The streets were narrow and roughly paved in the old provincial seaport town; the houses looked a good deal alike as they stood close to the street, though here and there the tops of some fruit trees showed themselves over a high garden fence.  And presently before a broad-faced and gambrel-roofed house, the driver stopped his horses, and now only the front door with its bull’s-eyed top-lights and shining knocker stood between Nan and her aunt.  The coachman had given a resounding summons at this somewhat formidable entrance before he turned to open the carriage door, but Nan had already alighted, and stepped quickly into the hall.  Priscilla directed her with some ceremony to the south parlor, and a prim figure turned away from one of the windows that overlooked the garden, and came forward a few steps.  “I suppose this is Anna,” the not very cordial voice began, and faltered; and then Miss Prince led her niece toward the window she had left, and without a thought of the reserve she had decided upon, pushed one of the blinds wide open, and looked again at Nan’s appealing face, half eager herself, and half afraid.  Then she fumbled for a handkerchief, and betook herself to the end of the sofa and began to cry:  “You are so like my mother and Jack,” she said.  “I did not think I should be so glad to see you.”

The driver had deposited Nan’s box, and now appeared at the door of the parlor with Priscilla (who had quite lost her wits with excitement) looking over his shoulder.  Nan sprang forward, glad of something to do in the midst of her vague discomfort, and at this sight the hostess recovered herself, and, commanding Priscilla to show Miss Prince to her room, assumed the direction of business affairs.

The best bedroom was very pleasant, though somewhat stiff and unused, and Nan was glad to close its door and find herself in such a comfortable haven of rest and refuge from the teasing details of that strange day.  The wind had gone to the eastward, and the salt odor was most delightful to her.  A vast inheritance of memories and associations was dimly brought to mind by that breath of the sea and freshness of the June day by the harbor side.  Her heart leaped at the thought of the neighborhood of the wharves and shipping, and as she looked out at the ancient street, she told herself with a sense of great fun that if she had been a boy she would inevitably have been a surgeon in the navy.  So this was the aunt whom Nan had thought about and dreamed about by day and by night, whose acquaintance had always been a waiting pleasure, and the mere fact of whose existence had always given her niece something to look forward to.  She had not known until this moment what a reserved pleasure this meeting had been, and now it was over with.  Miss Prince was so much like other people, though why she should not have been it would be difficult to suggest, and Nan’s taste had been so educated and instructed by her Oldfields’ advantages, not to speak of her later social experiences,