hrough the door opposite and
drew a curtain. Light flooded the drawing-room furniture from Wickham
Place. "And the dining-room." More curtains were drawn, more windows
were flung open to the spring. "Then through here--" Miss Avery
continued passing and reprising through the hall. Her voice was lost,
but Margaret heard her pulling up the kitchen blind. "I've not finished
here yet," she announced, returning. "There's still a deal to do. The
farm lads will carry your great wardrobes upstairs, for there is no need
to go into expense at Hilton."

"It is all a mistake," repeated Margaret, feeling that she must put her
foot down. "A misunderstanding. Mr. Wilcox and I are not going to live
at Howards End."

"Oh, indeed! On account of his hay fever?"

"We have settled to build a new home for ourselves in Sussex, and part
of this furniture--my part--will go down there presently." She looked at
Miss Avery intently, trying to understand the kink in her brain.

Here was no maundering old woman. Her wrinkles were shrewd and humorous.
She looked capable of scathing wit and also of high but unostentatious
nobility. "You think that you won't come back to live here, Mrs. Wilcox,
but you will."

"That remains to be seen," said Margaret, smiling. "We have no intention
of doing so for the present. We happen to need a much larger house.
Circumstances oblige us to give big parties. Of course, some day--one
never knows, does one?"

Miss Avery retorted: "Some day! Tcha! tcha! Don't talk about some day.
You are living here now."

"Am I?"

"You are living here, and have been for the last ten minutes, if you ask
me."

It was a senseless remark, but with a queer feeling of disloyalty
Margaret rose from her chair. She felt that Henry had been obscurely
censured. They went into the dining-room, where the sunlight poured in
upon her mother's chiffonier, and upstairs, where many an old god peeped
from a new niche. The furniture fitted extraordinarily well. In the
central room--over the hall, the room that Helen had slept in four years
ago--Miss Avery had placed Tibby's old bassinette.

"The nursery," she said.

Margaret turned away without speaking.

At last everything was seen. The kitchen and lobby were still stacked
with furniture and straw, but, as far as she could make out, nothing
had been broken or scratched. A pathetic display of ingenuity! Then they
took a friendly stroll in the garden. It had gone wild since her last
visit.