I SUPPOSE a pleasanter kitchen was hardly ever seen than the one in which my story commences. It was not one of those under-ground places, with little square windows close to the low ceiling, and on a level with the street, or shut in by a grim area-wall, in which so many girls spend all their working time, without being able to see so much as a square foot of sky, except by twisting their heads half off their shoulders. No, it was a high, light room, with two large windows, which let in so much light and air that the geraniums and verbenas on the window seats flourished as if they had been in a green-house; and looking out upon a square yard, small to be sure, but kept so nicely, and in summer so filled with flowers that it was a pleasure to look into it. There were no flowers or other growing things to be seen, however, at the time our story commences, for the ground was frozen hard, and covered with a light snow, which a cold wind was driving here and there, and twirling high up into the air, till the flakes caught the sunbeams and glittered like showers of diamonds.
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