ny table had been polished by Dorothy's strong hands. Mrs.
Challoner's easy-chair and little work-table at one window looked
quite inviting; the sewing-machine and Nan's rosewood davenport were
in their places. A hanging cupboard of old china, and a few well-bound
books, gave a little coloring and finish, and one or two fine old
prints that had hung in the dining-room at Glen Cottage had been
disposed with advantage on the newly-papered walls. An inlaid clock
ticked on the mantelpiece, and some handsome ruby-colored vases stood
on either side of it. Nan was quite right when she had glanced round
her a few minutes ago in a satisfied manner and said no one need be
ashamed of living in such a room.

"Our pretty things make it look almost too nice for the purpose," she
continued, handling a precious relic, a Sevres cup and saucer, that
had been her especial pride in old days. "I think you were wrong,
Phil, not to have the china in the other room."

"No, indeed; I want people to see it and be struck with our taste,"
was Phillis's frank answer. "Think what pleasure it will give the poor
ladies when their dresses are being tried on. Don't you remember the
basket of wax fruit at Miss Slinders's, when we were small children? I
thought it the loveliest work of art, and feasted my eyes all the time
Miss Slinders was fitting my pink frock. Now, our pictures and china
will refresh people's eyes in the same way."

Nan smiled and shook her head, as she dusted and arranged her
treasures. The china was very dear to her,--far more than the books
Phillis was arranging on the chiffonnier. The Dresden figures that
Dick had given to her mother were among them. She did not care for
strangers to look at them and appraise their value. They were home
treasures,--sacred relics of their past. The last time she had dusted
them, a certain young man of her acquaintance had walked through the
open window whistling "Blue bonnets over the Border," and had taken up
his station beside her, hindering her work with his chattering. Dulce
was in the upper regions, unpacking a box in her mother's room. Mrs.
Challoner was coming home the next day, and Dorothy and she were hard
at work getting things in order.

When Phillis made her downright speech, Nan looked down from her lofty
perch, and held out her arms for the curtain.

"Richard is always himself, my dear," she said, softly. "Do you know
when you are down, Phil, I feel as though we are all at a stand