The man-servant opened the door and looked at us as if weary and
surprised, and said nothing.

"Is Mrs. Reagan in?" I asked.

"She is."

That's all he said. He waited. I waited. Then I stepped forward.

"We will come in," I said. "And you go and tell her Mary Cary would like
to see her, having a message from Miss Jones." And he was so surprised
he moved aside, and in I walked.

I had heard so much about this house that I wasn't going to miss seeing
what was in it, if that fool man was rude; so while he was gone to get
Mrs. Reagan I counted everything in the front parlor as quick as I
could, and told Bertha to count everything in the back.

There were three sofas and two mirrors and nine chairs and six rugs and
six tables and two pianos, one little old-fashioned one and a big new
one; and three stools and seventeen candlesticks and four pedestals with
statuary on them, some broken, all naked; and seven palms and
twenty-three pictures and two lamps and five red-plush curtains, three
pairs over the lace ones and two at the doors; and as for ornaments, it
was a shop. And not one single book.

I am sure I got the things right, for I'd been practising remembering
at observation parties, in case I ever got a chance to see inside this
house; and I looked hard so I could tell the girls.