n a little
knot high on her head, in which in the afternoon, or on company
occasions, she wore a large shell comb. Her features were rather long
and spare, and she wore plain little gold hoops in her ears because her
eyes had been weak in youth and it was believed this strengthened them.
Anyhow, she could see well enough at five-and-forty to detect a bit of
dust or dirt, or lint left on a plate from the towel, or a chair that
was a trifle out of its rightful place. She was an excellent
housekeeper, and suited her master exactly.

"This is the little English girl I was telling you about,
Recompense--Cousin Charles' grandniece, and my ward," announced Mr.
Adams.

"How do you do, child! Let me take off your hood and cloak. Why, she
isn't very stout or rosy. She might have been born here in the east
wind. And she is an Adams through and through."

"Do you think so?" with an expression of pleasure, as Recompense held
her off and looked her over.

"Are her eyes black?" rather disapprovingly.

"No, the very darkest blue you can imagine," said Mr. Adams.

"Betty, run upstairs with these things. Your feet are younger than mine,
and haven't done so much trotting round. Lay them on my bed. Why,
where's your mother?" in a tone of surprise.

Betty made the proper explanation and skipped lightly upstairs.

Mr. Adams took one of the large chairs, drawing it closer to the fire.
Recompense brought out a stool for the little girl. It was covered with
thick crimson brocade, a good deal faded, but it had a warm, inviting
aspect. Children were not expected to sit in chairs then, or to run
about and ask what everything was for.

There had been children, little girls of different relatives, sitting at
the fireside before. His own small boy had dozed in the fascinating
warmth of the fire and hated to go to bed, and he had weakly indulged
him, as there had been no mother to exercise authority. But Doris was
different. She was alone in the world, and had been sent to him by a
mysterious providence. He knew the responsibility of a girl must be
greater. He couldn't send her to the Latin school and then to Harvard,
and he really wondered how much education a girl ought to have to fit
her for the position Doris would be able to take.

She was like a quaint picture sitting there. Betty had tied a cluster of
curls high on her head with a blue ribbon, and just a few were left to
cling about her neck over the lace tucker. Her slim hands lay