Captain liked visitors--when he was
convinced that they really were visitors, not peddlers, nor agents,
quite as well as his master and mistress did. "You'd be homesick
enough, if you really were off on your travels--you'd better get used
to it. Hadn't she, Captain?" Pauline went to unpack the valise,
opening the drawers of the old-fashioned mahogany bureau with a little
breath of pleasure. "Lavender! Hilary."
Hilary smiled, catching some of her sister's enthusiasm. She leaned
back among her cushions, her eyes on the stretch of shining water at
the far end of the pasture. "I wish you were going to be here, Paul,
so that we could go rowing. I wonder if I'll ever feel as if I could
row again, myself."
"Of course you will, and a great deal sooner than you think." Pauline
hung Hilary's dressing-gown across the foot of the high double bed.
"Now I think you're all settled, ma'am, and I hope to your
satisfaction. Isn't it a veritable 'chamber of peace,' Hilary?"
Through the open door and windows came the distant tinkle of a cow
bell, and other farm sounds. There came, too, the scent of the early
May pinks growing in the borders of Mrs. Boyd's old-fashioned flower
beds.
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