The garlands on Mrs.Maxwell's parlor carpet might have been the flora of a whole age, she and her mother seemed so far apart, with that recession of soul which can cover more than earthly spaces.

To the young girl with her scared, indignant eyes the older woman seemed actually living and breathing under new conditions in some strange element.
"Flora, Flora, where be you ?" Mrs.Maxwell called out in the entry.
They heard her climbing the chamber stairs; but she soon came into the parlor with a little glass of currant wine.
"Here, you'd better drink this right down," she said to Lois; "it won't hurt you.

I don't see where Flora is, for my part.

She ain't upstairs.

Drink it right down." Lois drank the little glass of wine without any demur.