As Mr.
Bowers had accepted the widow's polite invitation to enter, she was compelled, albeit in an equally dazed and helpless way, to issue some preliminary orders:-- "Now, Chloe--I mean aunt Dinah--do take Eunice--I mean Victorine and Una--away, and--you know--tidy them; and you, Sarah--it's Sarah, isn't it ?--lay some refreshment in the parlor for this gentleman.

And, Bob, tell your sister Cynthia to come here with Eunice." As Bob still remained staring at Mr.Bowers, she added, in weary explanation, "Mr.
Bowers brought me over from the Summit woods in his buggy--it was so hot.

There--shake hands and thank him, and run away--do!" They crossed a broad but scantily-furnished hall.

Everywhere the same look of hopeless incompleteness, temporary utility, and premature decay; most of the furniture was mismatched and misplaced; many of the rooms had changed their original functions or doubled them; a smell of cooking came from the library, on whose shelves, mingled with books, were dresses and household linen, and through the door of a room into which Mrs.Delatour retired to remove her duster Mr.Bowers caught a glimpse of a bed, and of a table covered with books and papers, at which a tall, fair girl was writing.

In a few moments Mrs.Delatour returned, accompanied by this girl, and Eunice, her short-lipped sister.