Holloa, mother! Isn't it jolly here? And
don't you smell the mince pies? I am going to eat two pieces!" And the
wild boy waltzed into the library in time to see his mother drop
languidly into an arm-chair, with the air of one who had endured all it
was possible to endure, and who considered herself a martyr.
"Pray be quiet, and come and unfasten my cloak. You forget that your
Aunt Lucy is no longer young, to be whirled round like a top."
"Young or not, she is as pretty as a girl, any day," Grey replied,
releasing his aunt and hastening to his mother.
Knowing her sister's dislike to the country, Miss Grey had spared no
pains to make the house as attractive as possible. There was no furnace,
but there were fires in every grate, and in the wide fire-place in the
large dining-room, where the bay-window looked out upon the hills and
the pretty little pond. Lucy's greenhouse had been stripped of its
flowers, which, in bouquets, and baskets, and bowls, were seen
everywhere, while pots of azaleas, and camellias, and rare lilies stood
in every nook and corner, filling the rooms with a perfume like early
June, when the air is full of sweetness.
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