’Good-evening, Mrs. Barton.  What dreadful weather!  I hope my wet boxes will not spoil the oilcloth.’

’That is easily wiped off, Miss Garston; but I am thinking the damp must have made you chilly.  Come into the parlour:  there is a fine rousing fire that will soon warm you.  A fire is a deal of comfort on a wet, cool night.  I have lighted one in your bedroom too.’

Evidently Mrs. Barton spared herself no trouble.  I was a fire-worshipper, and loved to see the ruddy flame lighting up all the odd corners, and I was glad to think both my rooms would be cheerful.  The parlour looked the picture of comfort; my piano was nicely placed, and the davenport, and the chair that I had sent with it.  A large old-fashioned couch was drawn across the window, the round table had a white cloth on it, and the tea-tray and a cottage loaf were suggestive of a meal.  The room was long and rather low, but the bow-window gave it a cosy aspect; one glance satisfied me that I had space for the principal part of my books, the rest could be put in my bedroom.  When Mrs. Barton stirred the fire and lighted the candles the room looked extremely cheerful, especially as Tinker, the collie, had taken a fancy to the rug, and had stretched himself upon it after giving me a wag of his tail as a welcome.  Mrs. Barton would hardly give me time to warm my hands before she begged me to follow her upstairs and take off my things while they brought in the luggage.

I found my bedroom had one peculiarity:  you had to descend two broad steps before you entered it.

It was the same size as the parlour, and had a bow-window.  The furniture was unusually good; it had belonged to the previous lodger, Mrs. Meredith, who had bequeathed it to Mrs. Barton at her death.

I was thankful to see a pretty iron bedstead with a brass ring and blue chintz hangings, instead of the four-poster I had dreaded.  There was a commodious cupboard and a handsome Spanish mahogany chest of drawers that Mrs. Barton pointed out with great pride.  A bright fire burned in the blue-tiled fireplace; there was an easy-chair and a round table in the bow-window; a pleasant perfume of lavender-scented sheets pervaded the room, and a winter nosegay of red and white chrysanthemums was prettily arranged in a curious china bowl.  I praised everything to Mrs. Barton’s satisfaction, and then she went downstairs to see to the tea, first giving me the information that Nathaniel was coming upstairs with the big trunk, and would I tell him where to place it?

He entered the next moment, carrying the heavy trunk on his shoulder as easily as though it were a toy.  He was a good-looking man, with a fair beard and a pair of honest blue eyes, and in spite of his size and strength—­for he was a perfect son of Anak—­seemed rather shy and retiring.

I left him loosening the straps of my box, and went downstairs to find Uncle Max.

He had made himself quite at home, and was sitting in the big easy-chair contemplating the fire.