Philadelphia at Last

She came toward evening to a little cottage on the edge of a pretty
suburb. The cottage was covered with roses, and the front yard was full of
great old-fashioned flowers. On the porch sat a plain little old lady in a
rocking-chair, knitting. There was a little gate with a path leading up to
the door, and at the side another open gate with a road leading around to
the back of the cottage.

Elizabeth saw, and murmuring, "O 'our Father,' please hide me!" she dashed
into the driveway, and tore up to the side of the piazza at a full gallop.
She jumped from the horse; and, leaving him standing panting with his nose
to the fence, and a tempting strip of clover in front of him where he
could graze when he should get his breath, she ran up the steps, and flung
herself in a miserable little heap at the feet of the astonished old lady.

"O, please, please, won't you let me stay here a few minutes, and tell me
what to do? I am so tired, and I have had such a dreadful, awful time!"

"Why, dearie me!" said the old lady. "Of course I will. Poor child; sit
right down in this rocking-chair, and have a good cry. I'll get you a
glass of water and something to eat, and then you shall tell me all about
it."

She brought the water, and a tray with nice broad slices of brown bread
and butter, a generous piece of apple pie, some cheese, and a glass
pitcher of creamy milk.