the fireplace, and only a small Turkey carpet in the middle of the
flag-floor. The room might have been easily made into a handsome
dark oak dining-parlour by removing the oven and a few other
appurtenances of a kitchen, which were evidently never used, the
real cooking-place being at some distance. The room in which we
were expected to sit was a stiffly-furnished, ugly apartment; but
that in which we did sit was what Mr Holbrook called the counting-
house, where he paid his labourers their weekly wages at a great
desk near the door. The rest of the pretty sitting-room--looking
into the orchard, and all covered over with dancing tree-shadows--
was filled with books. They lay on the ground, they covered the
walls, they strewed the table. He was evidently half ashamed and
half proud of his extravagance in this respect. They were of all
kinds--poetry and wild weird tales prevailing. He evidently chose
his books in accordance with his own tastes, not because such and
such were classical or established favourites.

"Ah!" he said, "we farmers ought not to have much time for reading;
yet somehow one can't help it."

"What a pretty room!" said Miss Matty, sotto voce.

"What a pleasant place!" said I, aloud, almost simultaneously.

"Nay! if you like it," replied he; "but can you sit on these great,
black leather, three-cornered chairs? I like it better than the
best parlour; but I thought ladies would take that for the smarter
place."

It was the smarter place, but, like most smart things, not at all