a time she forgot her fatigue. Then an irresistible drowsiness
seized her; the talk going on between Geoffrey Templestowe and her
brother, about cows and feed and the prospect of the autumn sales,
became an indistinguishable hum, and she went off into a series of
sleeps broken by brief wakings, when the carryall bumped, or swayed
heavily from side to side on the steep inclines. From one of the
soundest of these naps she was roused by her brother shaking her arm and
calling,--

"Moggy, wake, wake up! We are here."

With a sharp thump of heart-beat she started into full consciousness to
find the horses drawing up before a deep vine-hung porch, on which stood
a group of figures which seemed to her confused senses a large party.
There was Elsie in a fresh white dress with pale green ribbons,
Clarence Page, Phil Carr, little Philippa in her nurse's arms, small
Geoff with his two collies at his side, and foremost of all, ready to
help her down, hospitable little Clover, in lilac muslin, with a rose in
her belt and a face of welcome.

"How the Americans do love dress!" was Imogen's instant thought,--an
ungracious one, and quite unwarranted by the circumstances. Clover and
Elsie kept themselves neat and pretty from habit and instinct, but the
muslin gowns were neither new nor fashionable, they had only the merit
of being fresh and becoming to their wearers.

"You poor child, how tired you must be!" cried Clover, as she assisted
Imogen out of the carriage. "This is my sister, Mrs. Page. Please take
her directly to her room, Elsie, while I order up some hot water. She'll
be glad of that first of all. Lion, I won't take time to welcome you
now. The boys must care for you while I see after your sister."

A big sponging-bath full of fresh water stood ready in the room to
which Imogen was conducted; the white bed was invitingly "turned down;"
there were fresh flowers on the dressing-table, and a heap of soft
cushions on a roomy divan which filled the deep recess of a range of low
windows. The gay-flowered paper on the walls ran up to the peak of the
ceiling, giving a tent-like effect. Most of the furnishings were
home-made. The divan was nothing more or less than a big packing-box
nicely stuffed and upholstered; the dressing-table, a construction of
pine boards covered and frilled with cretonne. Clover had plaited the
chintz round the looking-glass and on the edges of the book-shelves,
while the picture-frames, the corner-brack