She reached the quiet little street at last.

She looked at the windows of the houses, but the notice she wanted to see was not in any of them.

At the end of the street she came to a narrow lane that led to the woods; half-way down the lane was a small cottage half buried in elder trees.
In the window hung a small placard--"Rooms to let." She knocked at the door, which was opened by a kindly-looking elderly woman.
"You have rooms to let ?" said the faint, low voice.

"I want two." Then followed a few words as to terms, etc., and the transaction was concluded.
"Shall my son fetch your luggage ?" asked the landlady, Mrs.Hirste.
"I have no luggage," she replied; then seeing something like a doubtful expression on the kindly face, she added; "I will pay you a month's money in advance." That was quite satisfactory.

Mrs.Hirste led the way to a pretty little parlor, which she showed with no little pride.
"This is the other room," she said, throwing open the door of a pretty white chamber.