She was glad that she was not to stay here. She felt herself quite a travelled orphan now, and somewhat disdainfully classed this rough settlement as "back-woodsy." The houses were uninviting and far apart, the roads and yards were desolate. The men were in the woods, the women and children were inside huddling around the fires. Middle Marsden was a quiet place, but it had not seemed as much out of the world as this. She hoped Ciscasset would be cheerful. Her travels had given her a liking for meeting new faces, and for enjoying some slight excitement. Not as much as she had had during the last few days--no, not as much as that. It was too trying for her, and she smiled faintly as she called up her last vision of her little careworn face in the cracked looking-glass in the log cabin.