The travellers were rather surprised to see
how very small a house this "home" was.
Though called a cottage, it had not the look
of one. It was of a red brick, dingy, though
evidently new: and, to all appearance, it
consisted of merely a room below, and one above.
On walking round it, however, a sloping roof
in two directions gave a hint of further
accommodation.

When the whole party had entered, and
Mrs. Fleming had kissed them all round, her
glance at her mother asked, as plainly as any
words, "Is not this a pleasant room?"

"A pretty room, indeed, my dear," was the
mother's reply," and as nicely furnished as
one could wish."

She did not say anything of the rust which
her quick eye perceived on the fire-irons and
the door-key, or of the damp which stained
the walls just above the skirting-board. There
was nothing amiss with the ceiling, or the
higher parts of the walls,—so it might be an
accident.

"But, my dear," asked the mother, seeing
how sleepy Moss looked, "Where are you
going to put us all? If we crowd you out
of all comfort, I shall be sorry we came
so soon."

As Mrs. Fleming led the way upstairs, she
reminded her family of their agreement not to
mind a little crowding for a time. If her
mother thought there was not room for all
the newly-arrived in this chamber, they could
fit out a corner for Allan in the place where
she and her husband were to sleep.

"All of us in this room?" exclaimed Becky.

"Yes, Becky; why not? Here, you see, is
a curtain between your bed and the large one;
and your bed is large enough to let little Moss
sleep with you. And here is a morsel of a
bed for Allan in the other corner; and I have
another curtain ready to shut it in."

"But," said Becky, who was going on to
object. Her mother stopped her by a sign.

"Or," continued Mrs. Fleming, "if you like
to let Allan and his bed and curtain come
down to our place, you will have plenty of
room here; much more than my neighbours
have, for the most part. How it will be when
the new cottages are built, I don't know. We
think them too small for new houses; but,
meantime, there are the Brookes sleeping
seven in a room no bigger than this, and the
Vines six in one much smaller."

"How do they manage, now?" asked the
mother. "In case of illness, say: and how do
they wash and dress?"

"Ah! that is the worst part of it. I don't
think the boys wash themselves—what we
should call washing for weeks together: or
at least only on Saturday nights. So they slip
their clothes on in two minutes; and then
their mother and sisters can get up. But
there is the pump below for Allan, and he can
wash as much as he pleases."

It was not till the next day that, Mrs
Woodruffe knew—and then it was Allan who told
her—that the pump was actually in the very
place where the Flemings slept,—close by
their bed. The Flemings were, in truth,
sleeping in an outhouse, where the floor was
of brick, the swill-tub stood in one corner, the
coals were heaped in another, and the light
came in from a square hole high up, which
had never till now been glazed. Plenty of air
rushed in under the door, and yet some more
between the tiles,—there being no plaster
beneath them. As soon as Mrs. Woodruffe
had been informed of this, and had stepped in,
while her daughter's back was turned, to make
her own observations, she went out by herself
for a walk,—so long a walk, that it was several
hours before she reappeared, heated and somewhat
depressed. She had roamed the country
round, in search of lodgings; and finding
none,—finding no occupier who really could
possibly spare a room on any terms,—she had
returned convinced that, serious as the
expense would be, she and her family ought to
settle themselves in the nearest town,—her
husband going to his business daily by the
third-class train, till a dwelling could be
provided for them on the spot.

When she returned, the children were on the
watch for her; and little Moss had strong
hopes that she would not know him. He had
a great cap of rushes on his head, with a heavy
bulrush for a feather; he was stuck all over
with water-flags and bulrushes, and carried a
long osier wand, wherewith to flog all those
who did not admire him enough in his new
style of dress. The children were clamorous
for their mother to come down, and see the
nice places where they got these new play-
things: and she would have gone, but that
their father came up, and decreed it otherwise.
She was heated and tired, he said; and
he would not have her go till she was easy
and comfortable enough to see things in the
best light.

Her impression was that her husband was,
more or less (and she did not know why),
disappointed; but he did not say so. He would
not hear of going off to the town, being sure
that some place would turn up soon,—some
place where they might put their heads at
night; and the Flemings should be no losers
by having their company by day. Their boarding
all together, if the sleeping could but be
managed, would be a help to the young couple,
—a help which it was pleasant to him, as a
father, to be able to give them. He said
nothing about the land that was not in praise
of it. Its quality was excellent; or would be
when it had good treatment. It would take
some time and trouble to get it into order,—
so much that it would never do to live at a
distance from it. Besides, no trains that would
suit him ran at the proper hours; so there
was an end of it. They must all rough it a
little for a time, and expect their reward
afterwards.

There was nothing that Woodruffe was so
hard to please in as the time when he should