The girl was shy, and stood awkwardly in the doorway with downcast eyes, not daring to look up at the visitor. Clarice fancied herself too tired to talk, so sat on the bench and leaned back against the white-washed logs. Quiet pervaded until a pig poked open the door and looked inquisitively into the room.
"Oh, drive that animal out!" exclaimed Clarice, "he's coming straight at me!"
The girl gave the pig a poke that sent it grunting away, then closed the door and placed a box before it to keep it shut.
"Will you kindly take me to Miss Hathaway's apartment?" asked Mrs. Van Rensselaer.
The breed girl looked bewildered. "To where?" she asked.
"To her room," requested the lady, less politely. "I suppose she has a room in this place, has she not? I should like to rest for a few moments."
"It's right there," said the girl shortly, pointing at a door.
"Right there!" exclaimed Mrs. Van Rensselaer crossly. "Why didn't you tell me so before?"
Clarice opened the door and gasped in wonder. A vision of Hope's room at the ranch, with all its dainty accessories, came before her, and she thought of the girl's love of luxury and comfort. Everything was clean here, she assured herself with another glance around—spotlessly clean and neat, which could not be said of the room she had just left. There was a bed, a chair, a box and some boards covered with cheese-cloth, that served as a dressing table. Not a picture adorned the wall or an ornament of any description was to be seen.
Mrs. Van Rensselaer walked all around the little room to satisfy herself that she had missed nothing. Some newspapers were fastened to the wall upon one side, and over them hung a few garments, which in turn were carefully covered by a thin shawl, with a view, no doubt, to keep out the dust. That was probably an idea of the German girl's, thought Clarice, and rightly, too, for to Louisa also was due the well scrubbed boards of the floor, the shining window panes, and the general neatness which pervaded the poor chamber.