"This is Miss Winn," interrupted Chilian. "My household guardians and cousins, Miss Elizabeth and Miss Eunice Leverett. I dare say our guests feel strange to be on land, after such a long journey."
"It seems almost incredible that one can stand it, but we see them starting every few days for distant ports. My farthest journey has been to Providence; but, land alive! you don't know where that is, and it's no great distance. Will you not come and have a cup of tea or coffee?"
"Thank you. We had breakfast not long ago, it seems."
"Let me take you to your room," said Eunice. "And I hope you will soon feel at home with us. We are quiet people, but we shall endeavor to make you comfortable. Cynthia, will you not shake hands with me?"
The soft, rather pleading voice attracted the child. She glanced up shyly and then held out a tiny hand hesitatingly.
"She is rather backward at first," explained Rachel, who followed the hostess up the broad stairway.
One of the guest-chambers had been set aside for their use after much discussion as to whether one or two would be needed. A smaller one opened into this, and a large closet was at the side.
"You can take off your things—I suppose your boxes, or whatever you have, will be here presently. The bureau is empty and this chest of drawers. We are rather old-fashioned people, and the house is the same as it was in the time of Chilian's father. The captain made one visit here, when the little girl was about four. It must have been hard for him to lose his wife in a strange country like that. I suppose there are not many Americans?"
"No; there are numbers of Englishwomen, wives of soldiers and traders, though I think most of them long to get home. They do not seem to take root easily."
"I shouldn't think they would, in that idolatrous country. The accounts of heathendom are appalling. And that car of Juggernaut, and drowning their poor little babies! They do not seem to make much of girl children."