Now it was full of artistic odds and ends--her fiddle, of course, and piles of music, her violin stand, a few deal tables and cane chairs beautified by a number of _chiffons_, bits of Liberty stuffs with the edges still ragged, or cheap morsels of Syrian embroidery.

On the tables stood photographs of musicians and friends--the spoils of her visits to Manchester, and of two visits to London which gleamed like golden points in the girl's memory.

The plastered walls were covered with an odd medley.

Here was a round mirror, of which Rose was enormously proud.

She had extracted it from a farmhouse of the neighborhood, and paid for it with her own money.