During the fifteen years which had intervened, she had been simply the cook.
This woman, Huldah Weston by name, did not accompany them.

She was in Belport to stay, and as it behooves us to remain there for a while longer ourselves, we will join her in the quiet rest she is taking on the kitchen steps before shutting up the house for the night.
She is not alone.

A young man is with her--one to whom she is giving temporary board and lodging in exchange for the protection of his presence and such slight help as he can afford her in the heavy task of distributing and arranging the furniture.
We know this man.

It is the one we have just seen halting at the corner of the house, on quitting his work on the new veranda--Sweetwater.
He is a genial soul; she, though very old for the responsibilities she still insists upon carrying, enjoys a good laugh.

Nor is she averse to the numberless little kindly attentions with which he shows his respect for her age if not a personal liking for herself.