the huge steel engraving of the Aurora, which hung prominently at the foot
of the stairs, in spite of its light oak frame, which was in shocking
contrast with the mahogany panels of the walls. Flanking the staircase were
other engravings,--Landseer's stags and the inevitable Queen Louise. Yet
through the open arch, in a pleasant study, one could see a good Zorn, a
Venom portrait, and some prints. This nook, formerly the library, had been
given over to the energetic Miss Hitchcock. It was done in
Shereton,--imitation, but good imitation. From this vantage point the
younger generation planned an extended attack upon the irregular household
gods.

Sommers realized for the first time how the Aurora and the Queen Louise
must worry Miss Hitchcock; how the neat Swedish maids and the hat-stand in
the hall must offend young Hitchcock. The incongruities of the house had
never disturbed him. So far as he had noticed them, they accorded well with
the simple characters of his host and hostess. In them, as in the house, a
keen observer could trace the series of developments that had taken place
since they had left Hill's Crossing. Yet the full gray beard with the broad
shaved upper lip still gave the Chicago merchant the air of a New England
worthy. And Alexander, in contrast with his brother-in-law, had knotty
hands and a tanned complexion that years of "inside business" had not
sufficed to smooth. The little habit of kneading the palm which you felt
when he shook hands, and the broad, humorous smile, had not changed as the
years passed him on from success to success. Mrs. Hitchcock still slurred
the present participle and indulged in other idiomatic freedoms that
endeared her to Sommers. These two, plainly, were not of the generation
that is tainted by ambition. Their story was too well known, from the
boarding-house struggle to this sprawling stone house, to be worth the
varnishing. Indeed, they would not tolerate any such detractions from their
well-earned reputation. The Brome Porters might draw distinctions and