drawing-room, low-ceiled and equally quaint in build.
The furniture seemed as old as the house. There was nothing with a
modern air about it, except some Indian curiosities, a water-color or
two, the photographs of the family, and the fresh flowers in the vases.
But the sun shone in, there was a great sense of peace and stillness,
and beside a little wood-fire, which burned gently and did not hiss or
crackle as it might have done elsewhere, sat a lovely old lady, whose
fresh and peaceful and kindly face seemed the centre from which all the
home look and comfort streamed. She was knitting a long silk stocking, a
volume of Mudie's lay on her knee, and a skye terrier, blue, fuzzy, and
sleepy, had curled himself luxuriously in the folds of her dress.

This was Mrs. Templestowe, Geoff's mother and Clover's mother-in-law.
She jumped up almost as lightly as a girl to welcome the visitors.

"Take your hat off, my dear," she said to Imogen, "or would you rather
run up to Isabel's room? She was here just now, but her father called
her off to consult about something in the hot-house. He won't keep her
long-- Ah, there she is now," as a figure flashed by the window; "I knew
she would be here directly."

Another second and Isabel hurried in, a tall, slender girl with thick,
fair hair, blue eyes with dark lashes, and a look of breeding and
distinction. Her dress, very simple in cut, suited her, and had that
undefinable air of being just right which a good London tailor knows how
to give. She wore no ornaments, but Imogen, who had felt rather
well-dressed when she left home, suddenly hated her gown and hat,
realized that her belt and ribbon did not agree, and wished for the
dozenth time that she had the knack at getting the right thing which
Isabel possessed.

"Her clothes grow prettier all the time, and mine get uglier," she
reflected. "The Squire says she got points from Mrs. Geoff, and that the
Americans know how to dress if they don't know anything else; but that's
nonsense, of course,--Isabel always did know how; she didn't need any
one to teach her."

Pretty soon they were all seated at luncheon, a hearty and substantial
meal, as befitted the needs of people who had just taken a seven-mile
walk. A great round of cold beef stood at one end of the table, a
chicken-pie at the other, and there were early peas and potatoes, a huge
cherry-tart, a "junket" equally large, strawberries, and various cakes
and pastries, meant to be ea