CHAPTER II

IN THE SEWING-ROOM

THREE women occupied the sewing-room with the splendid outlook: a
mother and her two daughters. The mother sat in a low rocking-chair, a
picture of mournful helplessness, her hands listlessly resting on her
lap, while tears had left their traces on her time-worn face. The
elder daughter paced up and down the room as striking an example of
energy and impatience as was the mother of despondency. Her comely
brow was marred by an angry frown. The younger daughter stood by the
long window, her forehead resting against the pane, while her fingers
drummed idly on the window sill. Her gaze was fixed on the blue Bay,
where rested the huge British warship "Consternation," surrounded by a
section of the United States squadron seated like white swans in the
water. Sails of snow glistened here and there on the bosom of the Bay,
while motor-boats and what-not darted this way and that impudently
among the stately ships of the fleet.

In one corner of the room stood a sewing-machine, and on the long
table were piles of mimsy stuff out of which feminine creations are
constructed. There was no carpet on the floor, and no ceiling
overhead; merely the bare rafters and the boards that bore the pine
shingles of the outer roof; yet this attic was notable for the
glorious view to be seen from its window. It was an ideal workshop.

The elder girl, as she walked to and fro, spoke with nervous
irritation in her voice.