"So you know the squire's name?" said Mrs. Larkin, in some surprise.
"I must have heard it somewhere," remarked Roland Reed. "Have I got it right?"
"Yes; it's a peculiar name."
When they reached the cottage Mrs. Larkin set about getting supper. In honor of her guest she sent out for some steak, and baked some biscuit, so that the table presented an inviting appearance when the three sat down to it. After supper was over, Roland Reed said: "I told you that I wished to speak to you on business, Mrs. Larkin. It is briefly this: Are you willing to receive a boarder?"
"I am afraid, sir, that you would hardly be satisfied with our humble accommodations."
"Oh, I am not speaking of myself, but of a child. I am a widower, Mrs. Larkin, and have a little daughter eight years of age. She is now boarding in New York, but I do not like the people with whom I have placed her. She is rather delicate, also, and I think a country town would suit her better than the city air. I should like to have her under just such nice motherly care as I am sure you would give her."
"I shall be very glad to receive her," said Mrs. Larkin, with a flush of pleasure.
"And for the terms?"
"I would rather you would name them, sir."
"Then I will say ten dollars a week."