It was peaceful, quiet, assuring, and,
the girl thought, heavenly! She thought for a moment of Sellers'
restaurant and the little room she had occupied on Hanover Street.
_This_ was contentment.
Old Pareta had brought her trunk and bag and carried them up to the
big, well-furnished room she was to occupy. By and by Prudence went
up with her to see that she was made comfortable there, and to watch
her unpack, for the old woman was not without curiosity regarding
the "city fashions."
One window of the room looked to the north. Through this Ida May saw
the steady beam of a lamp shining from a house down in what seemed
to be a depression behind the Head. She asked Prudence what that
was.
"That must be a light at 'Latham's Folly,' Tunis' house, you know,"
said the little old woman, likewise peering through the window.
"Shouldn't be surprised if 'twas right in his room. He sleeps this
end of the house. Yes, that's what it is."
"So Captain Latham lives just there?" the girl said softly.
"When he's ashore. He and his Aunt Lucretia. They are the only
Lathams left of their branch of the family."
Afterward, when Ida May had come upstairs to go to bed, she looked
to the northward again.
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