Mrs. Munger drove across the street, and drew up before a large, handsomely
ugly brick dry-goods store, whose showy windows had caught Annie's eye the
day she arrived in Hatboro'.

"I see Mrs. Gerrish has got here first," Mrs. Munger said, indicating the
perambulator at the door, and she dismounted and fastened her pony with a
weight, which she took from the front of the phaeton. On either door jamb
of the store was a curved plate of polished metal, with the name GERRISH
cut into it in black letters; the sills of the wide windows were of metal,
and bore the same legend. At the threshold a very prim, ceremonious little
man, spare and straight, met Mrs. Munger with a ceremonious bow, and a
solemn "How do you do, ma'am I how do you do? I hope I see you well," and
he put a small dry hand into the ample clasp of Mrs. Munger's gauntlet.

"Very well indeed, Mr. Gerrish. Isn't it a lovely morning? You know Miss
Kilburn, Mr. Gerrish."

He took Annie's hand into his right and covered it with his left, lifting
his eyes to look her in the, face with an old-merchant-like cordiality.

"Why, yes, indeed! Delighted to see her. Her father was one of my best
friends. I may say that I owe everything that I am to Squire Kilburn; he
advised me to stick to commerce when I once thought of studying law. Glad
to welcome you back to Hatboro', Miss Kilburn. You see changes on the
surface, no doubt, but you'll find the genuine old feeling here. Walk right
back, ladies," he continued, releasing Annie's hand to waft them before
him toward the rear of the store. "You'll find Mrs. Gerrish in my room
there--my Growlery, as I call it." He seemed to think he had invented the
name. "And Mrs. Gerrish tells me that you've really come back," he said,
leaning decorously toward Annie as they walked, "with the intention of
taking up your residence permanently among us. You will find very few
places like Hatboro'."