ll-worn foot-path came from a
back door to it, and on this path stood a yellow dog, nose in air, and
tail beating time on a snow-bank.

It was the only living thing to be seen, and Marion's heart sank
within her. She was cold, tired, and homesick; and she saw at once
that around the small front door, before which Cousin Abijah in his
gallantry had stopped, no footstep had left a mark. The snow-bank
reached to the handle, clung to it, and as absolutely refused
entrance, as did a shrill voice which at once made itself heard, but
from whence Marion could not conjecture. It said, however, "Go round
to the back door! What's good enough for me, is good enough for them
that come to see me!"

[Illustration: "I hope I see you well," said a not unkindly voice, as
Marion stepped out of the sleigh.--Page 143. _Miss Ashton's New Pupil._]

CHAPTER XXII.

AUNT BETTY'S RECEPTION OF HER GUEST.

When the sleigh stopped before the back door, it was slowly opened,
and Marion saw a tall, lank old woman with thin gray hair, small,
faded blue eyes, a long, sharp nose, and thin lips, standing in it.

"I hope I see you well," said a not unkindly voice, and something like
a smile played over the hard old face. A knotty hand was held out
toward her, and when she put hers timidly within it, it drew her into
a large kitchen, where a cooking-stove, that shone like a mirror, sent
out rays of heat even to the open door.

It was like Kate Underwood's "Tableau kitchen," yet how different! It
had such an air of cleanliness and comfort, that everything, even to
the old chairs and tables, the long rows of bright pewter that adorned
a swinging shelf, the hams clothed in spotless bags, hanging from the
old crane in the big chimney, all had a certain air of refinement
which went at once to Marion's heart.

Aunt Betty took off one of the lids of the stove, jammed in all the
wood it could be made to hold, then moved a straw-bottomed chair,
laced and interlaced with twine to keep the broken straw in place,
close to the stove, and motioned Marion to sit down in it.

Then she stood at a little distance looking at her curiously. "You
don't favor the Parkes," she said, after a slow examination. "You look
more like your Aunt Jerushy; she was on my mother's side. Your brown
hair is hern, and your gray eyes; you feature her too. When you're
warm through, you can go up-stairs and lay off your things. I don't
have folks staying with me often, but I'm g