Sinópse: “Please, sir, is this Plumfield?” asked a ragged boy of the man who opened the great gate at which the omnibus left him. “Yes. Who sent you?” “Mr. Laurence. I have got a letter for the lady.” “All right; go up to the house, and give it to her; she’ll see to you, little chap.” The man spoke pleasantly, and the boy went on, feeling much cheered by the words. Through the soft spring rain that fell on sprouting grass and budding trees, Nat saw a large square house before him, a hospitable-looking house, with an old-fashioned porch, wide steps, and lights shining in many windows. Neither curtains nor shutters hid the cheerful glimmer; and, pausing a moment before he rang, Nat saw many little shadows dancing on the walls, heard the pleasant hum of young voices, and felt that it was hardly possible that the light and warmth and comfort within could be for a homeless “little chap” like him. “I hope the lady will see to me,” he thought, and gave a timid rap with the great bronze knocker, which was a jovial griffin’s head. A rosy-faced servant-maid opened the door, and smiled as she took the letter which he silently offered. She seemed used to receiving strange boys, for she pointed to a seat in the hall, and said, with a no “Sit there and drip on the mat a bit, while I take this in to missis.” Nat found plenty to amuse him while he waited, and stared about him curiously, enjoying the view, yet glad to do so unobserved in the dusky recess by the door.