I used to peep in at the pretty room sometimes as I went up to bed; there were few notes written at the inlaid escritoire, and the handsomely-bound books were never taken down from the shelves.

Draper, Aunt Philippa's maid, fed the canaries and dusted the cabinets of china.
Sometimes Sara would trip into the room with one of her cronies for a special chat; the ripple of their girlish laughter would reach us as Jill and I sat together.

'Whom has Sara got with her this afternoon ?' Jill would say peevishly.

'Do listen to them; they do nothing but laugh.

If Fraeulein had set her all these exercises she would not feel quite so merry,' Jill would finish, throwing the obnoxious book from her with a little burst of impatience.
I always pitied Jill for having to spend her days in such a dull room; the furniture was ugly, and the windows looked out on a dismal back-yard, with the high walls of the opposite building.