husa had also discovered, questioning
delayed the wished-for loosening of Miss Eliza's tongue.

CHAPTER II

Miss Eliza paused to shut the front door carefully behind them,
latching it against the storm; and Arethusa ran on ahead into the
sitting-room at one end of the big, square hall, a "dog-trot" hall
which went straight through the centre of the house from front porch to
back porch.

This place known as the "sitting-room" was a nondescript apartment
crowded with furniture of varied sorts, till every available space was
occupied by something. It was too crowded to be really pleasing when
one entered it for the first time and yet it possessed certain and
unmistakable charm; which was a charm Miss Asenath may have given. Her
couch dominated everything, drawn across between the two south windows.
But whatever it was, one undoubtedly had a feeling of something about
the sitting-room which made it lovable after being in it the shortest
possible time.

The furniture which made it seem crowded ran from a new and shiny
sewing-machine of very recent purchase, through some pieces belonging
unmistakably to the period of temperamentally carved walnut of a
generation or so ago, back to the plain wood and simple lines of
Colonial days. Miss Eliza's high old secretary, placed to get the best
possible light for her slightly near-sighted eyes which she obstinately
refused to admit were anything but perfect in their vision, was of the
last description. The secretary stood open always, and was of a
consistently immaculate order. The neat little piles of papers and
account-books in the various pigeon-holes were arranged so precisely
they looked as if they had never been touched since first put in their
places, and yet the owner spent many industrious moments, nearly every
day, working with them. The piano, which sat almost directly opposite
the secretary, was of a trifle later construction. It was large and
square, of inlaid rosewood, with handsomely carved legs, and had
mother-of-pearl keys faintly tinged with brown all around their edges.
From end to end, lengthwise of its top, was a long narrow piece of dark
red satin decorated with bunches of tall cat-tails heavily painted in
oils. Scattered music lay all over the piano, on the music-rack,
sliding down on the keys, and in small, untidy piles hastily placed on
the red satin cover. Its scattered condition was conclusive evidence
that Arethusa had been handling it, for she