and ran lightly down the stairs; and then called
Elizabeth.

"Where had the boxes better go? They will have to be unpacked, I
suppose;" helplessly.

"There are more to come," announced the man. "Enough to set up
housekeeping, if the right sort of things are in them;" and he gave a
short laugh.

Miss Winn came downstairs. "Isn't there a garret to the house?" she
asked, looking from one to the other. "I packed them up, but I can
hardly tell----"

"Yes; we could store half the vessel's contents in it. Well, not exactly
that. A ship's hold is a capacious place. Yes, the boxes might go there.
Have you any idea what this is?"

"A sort of desk and bookcase. A very handsome thing the captain set
great store by."

The men shouldered the boxes and Elizabeth convoyed them. Silas was
spading up the garden and came at the call.

It was a work of some labor to get the article out of its secure
casings. It disclosed a very handsome piece of furniture in the
escritoire style, carved and inlaid not only with beautiful woods, but
much silver. Chilian surveyed it with admiration.

"That must stand in the parlor," he decided. "But some one must come and
help. I'm afraid I am not sufficiently robust. Silas, see if you can't
find the Uphams' man. He was working there a short time ago."

"If there's more to come, it is hardly worth while to clear up," began
Elizabeth. "I hope it will soon follow."

Chilian directed the two men, who found it still quite a burthen.
Elizabeth opened the parlor shutter unwillingly, and the men set it in
the middle of the floor.

There were two large rooms held almost sacred by both sisters. They were
separated by an archway, apparently upheld on each end by a fluted
column. Both rooms had a wide chimney-piece, the mantel and its supports
elaborately carved and painted white. Two windows were in each end,
draped with soft crimson curtains. The floor was polished, with a rug
laid down in the centre. It was furnished in a manner that would have
delighted a connoisseur, but Elizabeth did not admire the
conglomeration. They were family relics and seemed to have little
relation with one another, yet they were harmonious. There was a
thin-legged spinet, with a Latin legend running across the front of the
cover, which was always down. The chairs were not made for lounging,
that was plain; and the sofa, with its rolling ends and claw feet, had
been polished until the haircloth looked like satin. A dead and