It was a dim, quiet room in an old–fashioned New York house, with windows opening upon a garden that was trim and attractive, even in its Winter dress—for the rose–bushes were all bundled up in straw ulsters. The room was ample, yet it had a cosy air. Its dark hangings suggested comfort and luxury, with no hint of gloom. A hundred pretty trifles told that it was a young girl’s room: in the deep alcove nestled her dainty white bed, draped with creamy lace and ribbons. The door opened, and two pretty girls came in, one in hat and furs, the other in a modest house–dress. The girl in the furs, who had been afraid that she would be late, was fair, with a bright color in her cheeks, and an eager,…
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