"Here she is, Mrs. Crane," called Hale.
"Howdye, June!" said the Widow Crane kindly. "Come right in!" In
her June knew straightway she had a friend and she picked up her
bundle and followed upstairs--the first real stairs she had ever
seen--and into a room on the floor of which was a rag carpet.
There was a bed in one corner with a white counterpane and a
washstand with a bowl and pitcher, which, too, she had never seen
before.
"Make yourself at home right now," said the Widow Crane, pulling
open a drawer under a big looking-glass--"and put your things
here. That's your bed," and out she went.
How clean it was! There were some flowers in a glass vase on the
mantel. There were white curtains at the big window and a bed to
herself--her own bed. She went over to the window. There was a
steep bank, lined with rhododendrons, right under it. There was a
mill-dam below and down the stream she could hear the creaking of
a water-wheel, and she could see it dripping and shining in the
sun--a gristmill! She thought of Uncle Billy and ole Hon, and in
spite of a little pang of home-sickness she felt no loneliness at
all.
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