We stopped a night on the way to Boston at a country inn, which stood before an egg-shaped pond.

Temperance remade our beds, declaiming the while against the unwholesome situation of the house; the idea of anybody's living in the vicinity of fresh water astonished her; to impose upon travelers' health that way was too much.

She went to the kitchen to learn whether the landlady cooked, or hired a cook.

She sat up all night with our luggage in sight, to keep off what she called "prowlers"-- she did not like to say robbers, for fear of exciting our imaginations--and frightened us by falling out of her chair toward morning.

Veronica insisted upon her going to bed, but she refused, till Veronica threatened to sit up herself, when she carried her own carpet-bag to bed with her.
We arrived in Boston the next day and went to the Bromfield House in Bromfield Street, whither father had directed us.