Mary, spoiled by the companionship of the older girls for the society of those her own age, was afraid that Elise would be a repetition of Girlie Dinsmore; but before they had gone half a mile together they were finding each other so vastly entertaining that by the time they reached The Beeches they felt like old friends.
It was Mary's first sight of the place, except the glimpse she had caught through the trees the morning they passed on their way to Rollington.

As the pony-cart rattled up the wide carriage drive which swept around in front of the house, she felt as if she were riding straight into a beautiful old Southern story of ante-bellum days.

Back into the times when people had leisure to make hospitality their chief business in life, and could afford for every day to be a holiday.

When there were always guests under the spreading rooftree of the great house, and laughter and plenty in the servants' quarters.

The sound of a banjo and a negro melody somewhere in the background heightened the effect of that illusion.
The wide front porch seemed full of people.