ibrary table in the middle of the room, with books and baskets and
little easels with pictures, and paper weights and folders, and
other such like small articles of use and grace and cosy expression
lying about upon it, as if people had been there quite a while and
grown at home. There were bronze candelabra on the mantel and upon
brackets each side the bay window. Pictures were already
hung,--portraits, and gifts, not included in the schedule,--a few
nice engravings, and one glowing piece of color, by Mrs. Murray,
which Sylvie said was like a fire in the room.

"I am only afraid it is too fine," said she, replying to Rodney. "I
really want to be like our neighbors,--to _be_ a neighbor. We belong
here now. People should not drop out of the world, between the
ranks, when changes happen; they can't change out of humanity. Do
you know, Mr. Sherrett,--if it wasn't for the thought of my poor
father, and my mother not caring about anything any more,--I know I
should enjoy the chance of being a village girl?"

"You'll be a village girl, I imagine, as your parlor is a village
parlor. All in good faith, but wearing the rue with a difference."

"I don't mean to. I've been thinking,--_ever_ so much, and I've
found out a good many things. It's this not falling _on_ to anything
that keeps people in the misery of falling. I mean to come to land,
right here. I guess I preexisted as a barefoot maiden. There's a
kind of homeishness about it, that there never was in being elegant.
I wonder if I _have_ got anything in here that has no business?"

"Not a scrap. I've no doubt the blacksmith's wife's parlor is
finer. But you can't put the _character_ out."

"I mean to have plants, now; in this bay window. I guess I can, now
that we have no conservatory. Village people always have plants in
their windows, and mother won't want to see the street staring in."

"Have you brought some?"

"How could I? Those great oranges and daphnes? No: I shall have
little window plants and raise them."

"But meanwhile, won't the street be staring in?"

"Well, we can keep the blinds shut, for the warm weather."

"Amy will come and see you, when you are settled; Amy and Aunt
Euphrasia; you'll let them, won't you? You don't mean to be such a
violent village girl as to cut all your old friends?"

"Old friends?" Sylvie repeated, thoughtfully "Well, it does seem
almost old. But I didn't think I knew any of you _very_ well, only a
little while ago."

"U