lay thick upon the hearth, and a
trifle of gay crockery adorned the mantel-piece.

'See, then, here is a _salon_, so cool, so calm. Above is a room with
beds, and around the garden where the ladies can sit all day. A maid can
achieve the breakfast here, and my carriage can come for them to dine at
the hotel. Is it not charmingly arranged?

'It is simply awful,' said Mat, aghast at the prospect.

'Settle it as you like, dear, only I'm afraid I couldn't stay _very_
long on account of the dampness,' observed Lavinia, cheerfully, as she
put a hoe-handle under her feet and wiped the blue mould from a
three-legged chair.

'It won't do, so I'll tell her you are an invalid and very particular,'
said Amanda, with another inspiration, as she led the landlady forth to
break the blow tenderly.

'My neuralgia is useful if it isn't ornamental; and what a comfort that
is!' said Lavinia, as she lightly threw a large cockroach out of window,
dodged a wasp, and crushed a fat spider.

And so it was in many ways. If the party wanted a car to themselves,
Granny was ordered to lie down and groan dismally, which caused other
travellers to shun the poor invalid. If rooms did not suit, suffering
Madame _must_ have sun or perish. Late lunches, easy carriages, extra
blankets, every sort of comfort was for her, whether she wanted them or
not.

'Shall I be sick or well?' was always the first question when an
invitation came, for 'my sister's delicate health' was the standing
excuse when parties palled, or best gowns were not get-at-able.

While Amanda conferred with the hostess among the cabbages, Mat
discovered that the picturesque white cattle in the field close by were
extremely fierce and unsocial; that there was no house in sight, and the
venerable horse and shay would never sustain many trips to and fro to
dinner at the hotel. Lavinia poked about the house, and soon satisfied
herself that it abounded in every species of what Fanny Kemble calls
'entomological inconvenience,' and an atmosphere admirably calculated to
introduce cholera to the inhabitants of Moulins.

'It is all settled; let us return,' said Amanda, appearing at last with
an air of triumph, having appeased the old lady by eating green
currants, and admiring an earwiggy arbour, commanding a fine view of a
marsh where frogs were piping and cool mists rising as the sun set.

The chickens were tough at dinner, the wine bitter, the bread sour, but
no one reproached Amanda