the empty windows and had gone up in columns of sparks and flame above the dark trees. Her father had told her nothing of this big ruined house at the top of the hill, he had merely directed her to look for the Reynolds cottage half way up the slope among the maple trees. No doubt, Elizabeth thought, Miss Reynolds could give her an account of the fire. This idea gave some point to a visit in which she had felt very little interest until now. She had a twinge of conscience as she sat looking up the lane remembering how long it was since she had promised her father to go, and how she should have climbed that steep way many days before.
Elizabeth had not lived very long in this neighborhood, for this was early spring and it had been only at Christmas time that she and her father and Irish Anna, who kept house for them, had come to Harwood to settle down in what had been Mr. Houghton's old home. Even here, after many other moves, the question of uprooting soon came up again, for in March her father had been summoned to England to spend six months.
"I wish it were not going to be so lonely for you, Betsey," he had said as he made preparations to go, "but at least you will be busy. I am glad that we have found such a good school for you at last. A few more changes, and your education would have been wrecked entirely."
