Mother 's health had not been good and her doctor recommended sea air and quiet . Uncle James , when he heard it , proposed that we take possession of a small cottage at Golden Gate , to which he had recently fallen heir by the death of an old aunt who had lived in it . `` I have n't been up to see it , '' he said , `` but it is just as Aunt Elizabeth left it and she was the pink of neatness . The key is in the possession of an old sailor living nearby -- Jesse Boyd is the name , I think . I imagine you can be very comfortable in it . It is built right on the harbour shore , inside the bar , and it is within five minutes ' walk of the outside shore . '' Uncle James 's offer fitted in very opportunely with our limp family purse , and we straightway betook ourselves to Golden Gate . We telegraphed to Jesse Boyd to have the house opened for us and , one crisp spring day , when a rollicking wind was scudding over the harbour and the dunes , whipping the water into white caps and washing the sandshore with long lines of silvery breakers , we alighted at the little station and walked the half mile to our new home , leaving our goods and chattels to be carted over in the evening by an obliging station agent 's boy . * * * * * Our first glimpse of Aunt Elizabeth 's cottage was a delight to soul and sense ; it looked so like a big grey seashell stranded on the shore . Between it and the harbour was only a narrow strip of shingle , and behind it was a gnarled and battered fir wood where the winds were in the habit of harping all sorts of weird and haunting music . Inside , it was to prove even yet more quaint and delightful , with its low , dark-beamed ceilings and square , deep-set windows by which , whether open or shut , sea breezes entered at their own sweet will . The view from our door was magnificent , taking in the big harbour and sweeps of purple hills beyond . The entrance of the harbour gave it its name -- a deep , narrow channel between the bar of sand dunes on the one side and a steep , high , frowning red sandstone cliff on the other . We appreciated its significance the first time we saw a splendid golden sunrise flooding it , coming out of the wonderful sea and sky beyond and billowing through that narrow passage in waves of light . Truly , it was a golden gate through which one might sail to `` faerie lands forlorn . '' As we went along the path to our little house we were agreeably surprised to see a blue spiral of smoke curling up from its big , square chimney , and the next moment Uncle Jesse -LRB- we were calling him Uncle Jesse half an hour after we met him , so it seems scarcely worthwhile to begin with anything else -RRB- came to the door . `` Welcome , ladies , '' he said , holding out a big , hard , but scrupulously clean hand . `` I thought you 'd be feeling a bit tired and hungry , maybe , so when I came over to open up I put on a fire and brewed you up a cup of tea . I just delight in being neighbourly and ` tai n't often I have the chance . '' We found that Uncle Jesse 's `` cup of tea '' meant a veritable spread .
He had aired the little dining room , set out the table daintily with Aunt Elizabeth 's china and linen -- `` knowed jest where XXXXX put my hands on 'em -- often and often helped old Miss Kennedy wash 'em .
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