persuasive powers.

"Here, Sam, you black imp, carry yo' Marster Jack's gun and things to my
room, and, Rachel, take the colonel's bag to the sea-room, next to the
dinin'-hall. Breakfast in an hour, gentlemen, as Mrs. Slocomb used to
say."

I found only a bed covered with a quilt, an old table with small drawers,
a wash-stand, two chairs, and a desk on three legs. The walls were bare
except for a fly-stained map yellow with age. As I passed through the
sitting-room, Rachel preceding me with my traps, I caught a glimpse of
traces of better times. There was a plain wooden mantelpiece, a wide
fireplace with big brass andirons, a sideboard with and without brass
handles and a limited number of claw feet,--which if brought under the
spell of the scraper and varnish-pot might once more regain its lost
estate,--a corner-cupboard built into the wall, half full of fragments of
old china, and, to do justice to the major's former statement, there was
also a pair of dull old mahogany doors with glass knobs separating the
room from some undiscovered unknown territory of bareness and emptiness
beyond. These, no doubt, were the doors Anthony threw open for the bevies
of beauties so picturesquely described by the major, but where were the
Chippendale furniture, the George III. silver, the Italian marble mantels
with carved lions' heads, the marquetry floors and cabinets?

I determined to end my mental suspense. I would ask Rachel and get at the
facts. The old woman was opening the windows, letting in the fresh breath
of a honeysuckle, and framing a view of the sea beyond.

"How long have you lived here, aunty?"