"Heah is yo' room!" cried Lloyd, throwing open a door at the head of the
stairs, and leading the way in. Betty followed, her sunbonnet in her
hand, and looked around her like one in a dream. She had never imagined
a room could be so beautiful. If Lloyd could have known what a contrast
it was to the bare little west gable at the cuckoo's nest, she could
have better understood the wonder in Betty's face.

"My room is pink, and Eugenia's green, and Joyce's blue," explained
Lloyd. "Mothah thought you would like this white and gold one best,
'cause it's like a daisy field."

Before Betty could express her admiration, Mrs. Sherman came in with an
old coloured woman whom she called Mom Beck, and who, she told Betty,
had been her own nurse as well as Lloyd's. "And she is anxious to see
you," added Mrs. Sherman, "for she remembers your mamma so well. Many a
time she helped dress her when she was a little girl no larger than you,
and came home with me for a visit. She'll bring you some milk or iced
tea, and fix your bath when you are ready for it. We are going to leave
you now for a little while and see if you can't have a nice little nap.
It has been a long, tiresome journey, and you need the rest more than
you realise."

Left to herself, Betty undressed and lay down as she had been bidden.
Her eyes were tired and she closed them sleepily, but they would not
stay shut. She was obliged to open them for another peep at the dear
little white dressing-table with its crystal candlesticks, that looked
like twisted icicles. And she must see that darling little heart-shaped
pin-cushion again, and all the dainty toilet articles of gold and ivory.
Then she could not resist another glance at the white Angora rugs lying
on the dark, polished floor, and the white screen before her wash-stand