"But—Agnes knew of their coming. And she had seen them dancing on the grass. But if you speak or go near them, they disappear."
Miss Winn came out to the sitting-room.
"Oh, you are here," she said. "I thought you were out of doors. You ought to take a run. What a wonderful garret you have upstairs, Miss Eunice. But I am afraid we shall fill it up sadly. There were so many things to bring. I do not believe we shall find use for half of them. I want a few mouthfuls of fresh air. I suppose I can walk up the street without danger of getting lost if I turn square around when I return? Don't you want to come, Cynthia?"
Cynthia was ready.
"You had better wrap up warm. It gets chilly towards night."
"It was a long stretch on shipboard. We stopped at several ports, however. But I am glad to be on solid ground. Come, child."
She had brought down a wrap and hood. Cynthia was glad of something new, though she liked Miss Eunice.
They turned a rather rounding corner and went on to a sort of market-place, where sweepers were gathering up the débris after the day's sales. They glanced about the city. Salem had made rapid strides since the grand declaration of peace, but at the end of the century it was far from the grandeur the next twenty years would give it.
"There are no palaces and no temples," said Cynthia, rather complainingly. "And how white all the people are. Do you suppose they have been ill?"
"Oh, no; they have been housed up during the winter, and the climate is cold. And, you know, they are of a different race. This part, New England, was settled mostly from old England."