life about the place.

"Rose!" cried Hildegarde, stopping the horse with a pull of the reins;
"it is a deserted house. Do you know that I have never seen one in my
life? I must positively take a peep at it, and see what it is like
inside. Take the reins, Bonne Silene, while I go and reconnoitre the
position." She jumped out, and making her way as best she might through
the grassy tangle, was soon gazing in at one of the windows. "Oh!" she
cried, "it _isn't_ deserted, Rose! At least?--well, some one has been
here. But, oh, me! oh, _me_! What a place! I never, never dreamed of
such a place. I--"

"What _is_ the matter?" cried Rose. "If you don't tell me, I shall jump
out!"

"No, you won't!" said Hildegarde. "You'd better not, Miss! but _oh_,
dear! who ever, ever dreamed of such a place? My dear, it is the Abode
of Dirt. Squalid is no word for it; squalor is richness compared to this
house. I am looking--sit still, Rose!--I am looking into a room about as
big as a comfortable pantry. There is a broken stove in it, and a table,
and a stool; and in the room beyond I can see a bed,--at least, I
suppose it is meant for a bed. Oh! what person _can_ live here?"

"_I am coming_, Hilda," said Rose. "The only question is whether I get
out with your help or without."

"Obstinate Thing!" cried Hildegarde, flying to her assistance. "Well, it
shall see the lovely sight, so it shall. Carefully, now; don't trip on
these long grass-loops. There! isn't that a pretty place? Now enjoy
yourself, while I get out the tie-rein, and fasten the good beast to a
tree."

In hunting for the tie-rein under the seat of the carriage, Hildegarde
discovered something else which made her utter an exclamation of
surprise. "Luncheon!" she cried. "Rose, my dear, did you know about this
basket? Saint Martha must have put it in. Turnovers, Rose! sandwiches,
Rose! and, I declare, a bottle of milk and a tin cup. Were ever two
girls so spoiled as we shall be?"

[Illustration: "THEN THEY HUGGED EACH OTHER A LITTLE."]

"How kind!" said Rose. "I am not in the least hungry, but I _should_
like a cup of milk. Oh, Hildegarde!"

"What now?" asked that young woman, returning with the precious basket,
and applying her nose once more to the window. "Fresh horrors?"

"My dear," said Rose, "look! That is the pantry,--that little cupboard,
with the door hanging by one hinge; and there isn't anything in it to
eat, except three crackers and an onion."

Both girls g