turn three
times--but I don't think I quite know what a farm is like," confessed
she bravely.

"Oh, miss, that's easy; there isn't another house before you reach the
farm--the village is above Willett's Farm."

"Thank you; then I'll think I'll go now."

"You'll not lose yourself? I'd go with you, but I expect another train
in almost directly, and there isn't a soul about here that I could send.
And about your box, miss: will you send for it?"

"Yes, I'll send for it; and--and I don't think I shall lose myself."

"Then good evening, miss." The porter touched his hat, and she bade him
"good evening" in return; then the child went wandering down the road
from the station--a blue dot in the evening sunshine.

Well, she took her three turnings to the right, and they brought her to
the farm, lying not far up the last lane; the farm-buildings--barn,
stable, and a whole clump of outbuildings--lying back from the road a
little, and all lit up by the last rays of sunset. The house looked out
upon the lane, where the shadows were gathering fast, under the
many-tinted elm trees overshadowing it. Three spotlessly white steps led
up to the front door, a strip of green turf lying each side, enclosed by
green iron railings, and shut in by a little green gate. A quaint old
house it was, with many crooks, corners, and gables, and small lattice
diamond-paned windows, through one of which gleamed the ruddy glow of a
fire. Ah! the air was crisp, the sun well-nigh gone, the evening
creeping on. Inna sighed, and, tripping through the little green gate,
mounted the three white steps, and, by dint of straining, reached up,
and knocked with the knocker almost as loudly as a timid mouse. But it
brought an answer, in the shape of a middle-aged woman, in a brown stuff
gown, white apron and cap, dainty frillings of lace encircling her face.
A sober face it was, yet kindly, peering down in astonishment at our
small heroine, standing silent there among the deepening shadows in the
crisp chilly air.

"Well, dearie, what is it?" she questioned, as the child opened her lips
to speak, and said nothing.

"I'm Inna: please may I come in and tell you all about it?" asked the
silvery tongue then.

"Yes, of course--that is, if you have anything to tell;" and with this
the woman made way for the little girl to pass her, and shut the door.

"This way," she said; and that was to the kitchen.

Such a clean, cheery, comfortable place, with its wood fi