In the midst of the long room flooded with sunshine, the little lady
reclined on her couch and sipped gently from the glass Kesiah had handed
her. The tapestried furniture was all in soft rose, a little faded from
age, and above the high white wainscoting on the plastered walls, this
same delicate colour was reflected in the rich brocaded gowns in the
family portraits. In the air there was the faint sweet scent of cedar
logs that burned on the old andirons.

"So you came all the way home to see your poor useless mother,"
murmured Mrs. Gay, shielding her cheek from the firelight with a peacock
hand-screen.

"I wanted to see for myself how you stand it down here--and, by Jove,
it's worse even than I imagined! How the deuce have you managed to drag
out twenty years in a wilderness like this among a tribe of barbarians?"

"It is a great comfort to me, dear, to think that I came here on your
uncle's account and that I am only following his wishes in making the
place my home. He loved the perfect quiet and restfulness of it."

"Quiet! With that population of roosters making the dawn hideous! I'd
choose the quiet of Piccadilly before that of a barnyard."

"You aren't used to country noises yet, and I suppose at first they are
trying."

"Do you drive? Do you walk? How do you amuse yourself?"

"One doesn't have amusement when one is a hopeless invalid; one has only