Loads of bricks and stones, and heaps of mortar, and piles of wood, blocked up half the width and length of the broad street at the side.

Ladders were raised against the walls; labourers were climbing up and down; men were at work upon the steps of the scaffolding; painters and decorators were busy inside; great rolls of ornamental paper were being delivered from a cart at the door; an upholsterer's waggon also stopped the way; no furniture was to be seen through the gaping and broken windows in any of the rooms; nothing but workmen, and the implements of their several trades, swarming from the kitchens to the garrets.

Inside and outside alike: bricklayers, painters, carpenters, masons: hammer, hod, brush, pickaxe, saw, and trowel: all at work together, in full chorus! Florence descended from the coach, half doubting if it were, or could be the right house, until she recognised Towlinson, with a sun-burnt face, standing at the door to receive her.
'There is nothing the matter ?' inquired Florence.
'Oh no, Miss.' 'There are great alterations going on.' 'Yes, Miss, great alterations,' said Towlinson.
Florence passed him as if she were in a dream, and hurried upstairs.

The garish light was in the long-darkened drawing-room and there were steps and platforms, and men In paper caps, in the high places.

Her mother's picture was gone with the rest of the moveables, and on the mark where it had been, was scrawled in chalk, 'this room in panel.