At last the new home was ready. It was evening when the carriage set them down at the gate, and they could only see that there were trees and shrubs in the tiny front yard, and a cheerful light streaming from the door, where Dinah stood to welcome them,--dear old Di, who had insisted on following their fortunes as maid of all work. As they drew nearer, they perceived that she stood in a small, carpeted entry, with a room on either side. The room on the right was a sitting-room; the room on the left, a kitchen. There were three bedrooms upstairs, and a small coop in the attic for Dinah. That was all; for it was indeed a "really little house," as Papa had said.
"Oh, how pretty!" cried Lulu, as she caught sight of the freshly papered parlor, with its cheerful carpet, and table laid for tea, and on the other hand of the glowing kitchen stove and steaming kettle. "Such a nice parlor, and the dearest kitchen. Why, it's smaller than Susie Brown's house, which we used to wish we lived in. Don't you like it, Mamma? I think it's _sweet_."
Mrs. Frisbie only sighed by way of reply. But the children's pleasure was a comfort to Papa. He and Dinah had worked hard to make the little home look attractive. They had papered the walls themselves, put up shelves and hooks, arranged the furniture, and even set a few late flowers in the beds, that the garden might not seem bare and neglected.
The next day was a very busy one, for there were all the trunks to unpack, and the bureau drawers to fill, and places to be settled for this thing and that. By night they were in pretty good order, and began to feel at home, as people always do when their belongings are comfortably arranged about them.
Mrs. Frisbie was growing less doleful. Her husband, who was very tired, lay back in a big arm-chair. The evening was chilly, so Dinah had lighted a small fire of chips, which flickered and made the room bright. The glow danced on Bertha's glossy curls as she sat at Mamma's knee, and on the rosy faces of the two boys. All looked cheerful and cosy; a smell of toast came across the entry from the kitchen.
"Bertha, your hair is very nicely curled to-night," said Mrs. Frisbie. "I don't know how Dinah found time to do it."