So you mustn't think any more about my going to that beautiful
school with you."
"Stop! I won't listen to you another moment, Nan Sherwood!"
cried Bess, and sticking her fingers in her ears, she ran angrily
away and up the walk to the front door.
Nan walked briskly away toward Amity Street. She did not turn
back to wave her hand as usual at the top of the hill.
Chapter II
THE COTTAGE ON AMITY STREET
The little shingled cottage stood back from the street, in a
deeper yard than most of its neighbors. It was built the year
Nan was born, so the roses, the honeysuckle, and the clematis had
become of stalwart growth and quite shaded the front and side
porches.
The front steps had begun to sag a little; but Mr. Sherwood had
blocked them up. The front fence had got out of alignment, and
the same able mechanic had righted it and set the necessary new
posts.
The trim of the little cottage on Amity Street had been painted
twice within Nan's remembrance; each time her father had done the
work in his spare time.
Now, with snow on the ground and frozen turf peeping out from
under the half-melted and yellowed drifts, the Sherwood cottage
was not so attractive as in summer. Yet it was a cozy looking
house with the early lamplight shining through the kitchen window
and across the porch as Nan approached, swinging her schoolbooks.
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