"I am offering, also, a little basket of fruit which came my way this morning, and which looks, I fancy, as if it wanted to be eaten by just such a girl as you.
"Faithfully yours,
"William Metcalf."
When Amy read this note aloud to Hallam and Cleena, she did so in a proud and happy voice.
"Well, I've written letters for mother, and father, too, sometimes, but I've not had many of my own. This is. I'm going to keep it always. The very first one that has come here. Isn't he just the dearest man? Oh! I am so happy I must just sing. It's such a beautiful world, after all, and maybe we've had all our old things taken away just to teach us that folks are better than things. I feel as if I'd come out of a musty room into the open air."
"Amy Kaye! You should be ashamed of yourself. Have you no heart at all? As for musty rooms, if you can find any to beat these at 'Spite House,' you'll do well."
"I know. I'm 'bad,' of course, but come on. I'll fetch you all father's tubes and brushes that are in such a muddle, and you can sort them right near the well, and watch John fix it, and take care of Fayette; I'm going in and help Cleena, in any way I can."
Amy's cheerfulness was certainly infectious. It was also helpful to Hallam's gloomy mood that just then there should be the well and cistern cleaning, Mr. Young having discovered a cistern beneath a pile of decayed boards, at a little distance from the house. But the water in both being unfit for use, Amy bravely picked up a couple of pails and started down hill to their new neighbor's cottage.
"Wait, Amy, I'll rig up something," called the cripple; and by the aid of a rope, a barrel stave, and some wire he managed to hang the pails on either side Pepita's saddle. "So all you'll have to do will be walk up and down and make her behave," referring to Pepita's uncertain temper.