She smoothed her white apron over her knees and went on in eager reminiscence.
"I can remember every inch of it and am always telling the children about what I saw there. One thing I can't forget was a big desk with glass doors and such strange ornaments on the shelves. There was a little pine tree carved out of something that looked like green glass. I used to stop and stare at it every time I dusted. Did they save that, do you know, when the place was burned?"
"Yes," Betsey replied to the other's evident relief, "the toy-cupboard is safe at the cottage."
"I have always been waiting to hear that they were going to rebuild the house," the woman went on, "but year after year goes by and they keep on living in the little cottage. Miss Miranda loved her home so, I know she is sick at heart to go back to it. I don't understand it."
"Nor do I," observed Betsey with a sigh.
"It may be because of that work her father is doing," suggested the other shrewdly. "Such things do take a power of money and I am certain Miss Miranda would do without anything rather than have him give it up. She would think that was her share of the success that she has always felt certain was coming. He has worked at the thing ten years now, he should be finishing it one of these days." She dropped her voice to question Betsey with the
