Through the tiny square window the light streamed forth, and without knocking she raised the latch and entered.

There was a fire burning on the hearth, and it cast its ruddy glow over the little dingy room, with its worm-eaten rafters and mud floor, and broken whitewashed walls.

A curious little place, filled with all manner of articles.

Next to the fire was a great toolbox; beyond that the little bookshelf with its well-worn books; beyond that, in the corner, a heap of filled and empty grain-bags.

From the rafters hung down straps, riems, old boots, bits of harness, and a string of onions.