|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 10
They went on through the house, making notes of what was needed, while
their footsteps echoed and re-echoed through the empty rooms. "I'm glad
there are no carpets, except on the stairs," said Rose, "for rugs are
much easier to clean. It resolves itself simply into three C's--coal,
curtains, and cleaning. It won't take long, if we can get enough people
to work at it."
It was almost dusk when they went downstairs, but the cold slanting
sunbeams of a Winter afternoon came through the grimy windows and
illumined the gloomy depths of the open fireplace in the hall. Motes
danced in the beam, and the house somehow seemed less despairing, less
alone. A portrait of Colonel Kent, in uniform, hung above the great
mantel. Rose smiled at it with comprehension, but the painted lips did
not answer, nor the unseeing eyes swerve from their steady searching of
Beyond.
"How was it?" asked Madame, when they reached home. "Dirty and bad?"
"Rather soiled," admitted Rose.
"And colder than Greenland," Isabel continued, warming her hands at the
open fire.
"We'll soon change all that," Madame said. "I've ordered coal and
engaged people to do the cleaning since you've been gone, and I have my
eye upon two permanent retainers, provided their references are
satisfactory."
"I've measured for all the curtains," Rose went on. "Shall we make them
or buy them?"
"We'll make them. If we have help enough we can get them done in time."
The following day a small army, with Rose at the head of it, took
possession of the house. Every night she came home exhausted, not from
actual toil, but from the effort to instill the pride of good service
into unwilling workers who seemed to rejoice in ignorance.
"I'm tired," Rose remarked, one night. "I've cerebrated all day for
seven bodies besides my own and I find it wearing."
"I don't wonder," answered Madame. "I'll go over to-morrow and let you
rest."
"Indeed you won't," declared Rose, with emphasis. "I've begun it and I'm
going to finish it unless the Seven Weary Workers fail me absolutely."
At last the task was completed, and even Rose could find no speck of
dust in the entire establishment. The house was fresh with the smell of
soap-suds and floor wax and so warm that several windows had to be kept
open. The cablegram had come while the curtains were being made, but
everything was ready two days before the wayfarers could possibly reach
home.
On the appointed day, Rose and Isabel were almost as excited as Madame
Bernard herself. She had chosen to go over alone to greet the Colonel
and his son. They were expected to arrive about four in the afternoon.
At three, Madame set forth in her carriage. She wore her best gown, of
lavender crepe, trimmed with real lace, and a bunch of heliotrope at her
belt. Rose had twined a few sprays of heliotrope into her snowy hair and
a large amethyst cross hung from her neck by a slender silver chain. She
wore no other jewels except her wedding ring.
Fires blazed cheerily in every fireplace on the lower floor, and there
was another in the sitting-room upstairs. She had filled the house with
the flowers of Spring--violets, daffodils, and lilies of the valley. A
silver tea-kettle with a lamp under it waited on the library table.
When she heard the wheels creaking in the snowy road, Madame lighted the
lamp under the kettle with her own hands, then opened the door wide.
Followed by their baggage, the two men came up the walk--father and son.
The Colonel was a little older, possibly, but still straight and tall--
almost as tall as the son who walked beside him, carrying a violin case
under his arm. He wore the familiar slouch hat, the same loose overcoat,
and the same silvery goatee, trimmed most carefully. His blue eyes
lighted up warmly at the sight of the figure in the doorway.
"Welcome home!" cried Madame Francesca, stretching a hand toward each.
"Welcome home!"
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|