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child's quick instinct; then her eye took in the altered aspect of the
room, once so shrouded, still and solitary, now so full of light and
warmth and simple luxury.
India matting covered the floor, with a gay rug here and there; the
antique andirons shone on the wide hearth, where a cheery blaze
dispelled the dampness of the long-closed room. Bamboo lounges
and chairs stood about, and quaint little tables in cosy corners; one
bearing a pretty basket, one a desk, and on a third lay several
familiar-looking books. In a recess stood a narrow white bed, with
a lovely Madonna hanging over it. The Japanese screen half-folded
back showed a delicate toilet service of blue and white set forth on
a marble slab, and near by was the great bath-pan, with Turkish
towels and a sponge as big as Rose's head.
"Uncle must love cold water like a duck," she thought, with a
Then her eye went on to the tall cabinet, where a half-open door
revealed a tempting array of the drawers, shelves and "cubby
holes," which so delight the hearts of children.
"What a grand place for my new things," she thought, wondering
what her uncle kept in that cedar retreat.
"Oh me, what a sweet toilet table!" was her next mental
exclamation, as she approached this inviting spot.
A round old-fashioned mirror hung over it, with a gilt eagle a-top,
holding in his beak the knot of blue ribbon that tied up a curtain of
muslin falling on either side of the table, where appeared little
ivory-handled brushes, two slender silver candle-sticks, a porcelain
match-box, several pretty trays for small matters, and, most
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