At first it seemed as if Amy's search would be unsuccessful. One person after another whom she asked said that there were no historic houses in Digby.
"There's an old shop over across the way," one added, "the frame of which, they say, was brought out from England; I'll point it out to you, though it doesn't look very old."
This last statement was true enough, for the old house had been reshingled and reclapboarded and repainted, so that it retained hardly a vestige of antiquity in its appearance. To compensate Amy for her disappointment, the obliging native made a suggestion that in the end proved valuable.
"What you ought to do is to see Mrs. Sally Tatem; her house isn't much to look at, but it's old enough, and she knows more about the history of Digby than any one else here."
"Where does she live?"
"Oh, just a little way up that street and round the next corner and up the hill and you will see a little cottage at the end of the lane; just knock at the door, and if she's at home she'll be very obliging."
So Amy and Priscilla went "up the street and round the next corner and up the hill," and at "the end of the lane" they saw a small white cottage almost covered with vines. Amy's knock brought to the door a little old lady with silvery hair and a tiny ruffled cap, wearing a gray gown and, most important of all, a pleasant smile. The hesitation that Amy had felt in explaining the object of their visit disappeared under the old lady's greeting.
"Dear child, come right in; I'll tell you all the Digby history I know; but it isn't so very much."
As Amy sat down in the little sitting-room, she could not help looking about, and she was quick to recognize that the two chairs were Chippendale.
"They were brought by my grandfather," said Mrs. Tatem, noting the direction of Amy's glance. "He was a captain in the Queen's Rangers; you know many Americans were on the King's side in the Revolution."