Her father, mother, and Aunt Sylvia Crane sat there in the red gleam of the firelight and gathering twilight.

Sylvia sat a little behind the others, and her face in her white cap had the shadowy delicacy of one of the flowering apple sprays outside.
"How d'ye do ?" said Barnabas in a brave tone which was slightly aggressive.

Charlotte's mother and aunt responded rather nervously.
"How's your mother, Barnabas ?" inquired Mrs.Barnard.
"She's pretty well, thank you." Charlotte pulled forward a chair for her lover; he had just seated himself, when Cephas Barnard spoke in a voice as sudden and gruff as a dog's bark.

Barnabas started, and his chair grated on the sanded floor.
"Light the candle, Charlotte," said Cephas, and Charlotte obeyed.

She lighted the candle on the high shelf, then she sat down next Barnabas.