"Very likely, Jean," she said; "I've not a doubt of it.

I'm going now, and Miss Lois will walk along with me.

Yes, Mrs.Dale would see if anything was wrong, you can depend upon it." They set out together, Lois listening absently to Miss Deborah's chatter about the wedding, and vaguely glad when, at the gate of her aunt's house, she could leave her, with a pretty bow, which was half a courtesy.
There was a depressing stateliness about Dale house, which was felt as soon as the stone gateway, with its frowning sphinxes, was passed.

The long shutters on either side of the front door were always solemnly bowed, for Mrs.Dale did not approve of faded carpets, and the roof of the veranda, supported by great white pillars, darkened the second-story windows.

There was no tangle of vines about its blank walls of cream-colored brick with white trimmings, nor even trees to soften the stare with which it surveyed the dusty highway; and the formal precision of the place was unrelieved by flowers, except for a stiff design in foliage plants on the perfectly kept lawn.
On the eastern side of the house, about the deep windows of Mr.Dale's sanctum, ivy had been permitted to grow, and there were a few larch and beech trees, and a hedge to hide the stables; but these were special concessions to Mr.Dale.
"I do dislike," said Mrs.Dale,--"I do dislike untidy gardens; flowers, and vines, and trees, all crowded together, and weeds too, if the truth's told.