piazza.

The doctor's mother met them on the porch. She
had seen them enter the garden gate, and had left
her seat by the window, and was standing on the top
step to welcome them. Rex, as usual, in the doctor's
absence, did the honors of the office. He loved Jane,
and always sprang straight at her, his big paws resting
on her shoulders. These courtesies, however, he
did not extend to Meg. The high-bred setter had no
other salutation for the clay-colored remnant than
a lifting of his nose, a tightening of his legs, and a
smothered growl when Meg ventured too near his
lordship.

"Come up, my dear, and let me look at you,"
were Mrs. Cavendish's first words of salutation to
Lucy. "I hear you have quite turned the heads of
all the gallants in Warehold. John says you are very
beautiful, and you know the doctor is a good judge,
is he not, Miss Jane?" she added, holding out her
hands to them both. "And he's quite right; you are
just like your dear mother, who was known as the
Rose of Barnegat long before you were born. Shall
we sit here, or will you come into my little salon
for a cup of tea?" It was always a salon to Mrs.
Cavendish, never a "sitting-room."

"Oh, please let me sit here," Lucy answered,
checking a rising smile at the word, "the view is so