sixteenth-century Persian make; the only things of to-day were the big
bunches of flowers and ferns, arranged in majolica dishes upon the
landings. Everything was perfectly silent; only from below came the chimes,
silvery like an Italian palace fountain, of an old-fashioned clock.

It seemed to me that I was being led through the palace of the Sleeping
Beauty.

"What a magnificent house!" I exclaimed as I followed my host through a
long corridor, also hung with leather, wainscoted with carvings, and
furnished with big wedding coffers, and chairs that looked as if they came
out of some Vandyck portrait. In my mind was the strong impression that all
this was natural, spontaneous--that it had about it nothing of the
picturesqueness which swell studios have taught to rich and aesthetic
houses. Mr. Oke misunderstood me.

"It is a nice old place," he said, "but it's too large for us. You see, my
wife's health does not allow of our having many guests; and there are no
children."

I thought I noticed a vague complaint in his voice; and he evidently was
afraid there might have seemed something of the kind, for he added
immediately--

"I don't care for children one jackstraw, you know, myself; can't
understand how any one can, for my part."

If ever a man went out of his way to tell a lie, I said to myself, Mr. Oke
of Okehurst was doing so at the present moment.