smelled always of rich cake--a reassuring perfume to one who knew the
taste of it.

Lucina's aunt Camilla was a nervous soul, and liked not the rattle of
starched cotton about the house. Her old serving-woman must go always
clad in woollen, which held the odors of cooking long.

Lucina sat down in a little rocking-chair, hollowed out like a nest
in back and seat, which was her especial resting-place, and 'Liza
went out, leaving the rich, fruity odor of cake behind her, saying no
word, but evidently to tell her mistress of her guest. There were no
blinds on this ancient house, but there were inside shutters in fine
panel-work at all the windows. These were all closed except at the
east windows. There between the upper panels were left small square
apertures which framed little pictures of the blue spring sky,
slanted across with blooming peach boughs; for there was a large
peach orchard on the east side of the house. Lucina watched these
little pictures, athwart which occasionally a bird flew and raised
them to life. She held her doll primly, and her little work-bag still
dangled from her arm. She would not begin her task of knitting until
her aunt appeared and her visit was fairly in progress.

Over against the south wall stood a clock as tall as a giant man, and
giving in the half-light a strong impression of the presence of one,
to an eye which did not front it. Lucina often turned her head with a
start and looked, to be sure it was only the clock which sent that
long, dark streak athwart her vision. The clock ticked with slow and
solemn majesty. She was sure that sixty of those ticks would make a
minute, and sixty times the sixty an hour, if she could count up to
that and not get lost in such a sea of numbers; but she could not