sills anywhere else at 'The Pines.' My husband discovered the reason. There's a double wall at this end of the house. I think the old northern wall was burnt or torn down, or out of repair, and a former owner just clapped on another wall over it; or, perhaps, he thought it would make this end of the house warmer and more weatherproof. It's the quarter our storms come from. Whatever the reason, it makes these end rooms very pretty, I think. There's nothing like a deep window, is there? I hope you will like your room.”
I was sure that I should. It was really very fresh and pretty, seemed to have been done over recently, for the paper, the matting, the coat of white paint on the woodwork, the muslin curtains, were all spick and span. After Mrs. Brane had left me, I went to the window and looked out. I had a charming view of the old garden, still gay with late fall flowers, and with roses which bloomed here, probably all winter long. A splendid magnolia tree all but brushed the window with its branches. Just below stood a pretty arbor covered with rose-vines and honeysuckle. I drew in a deep breath of the soft, fragrant air. I was very happy, that night, very grateful for the “state of life to which Heaven had called me.”
CHAPTER II—SOMETHING IN THE HOUSE
DOWNSTAIRS, the little room that opened from the drawing-room was given to me by Mrs. Brane for my “office.” Here every morning Jane, Annie, and Delia came to me for orders.
D
It was a fortnight after my arrival, everything having run smoothly and uneventfully, when, earlier than usual, there came footsteps and a rap on the door of this room. My “Come in” served to admit all three old women, treading upon one another's heels. So odd and so ridiculous was their appearance that I had some ado to keep my laughter in my throat.
“Why,” said I, “what on earth's the matter?”
Jane's little, round, crumpled face puckered and blinked; Annie's stolid, square person was just a symbol of obstinate fear; Delia, long, lean,
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