own quarters below stairs, Colin got out of his chair.
I am going to run from one end of the gallery to the other, he said,
and then I am going to jump and then we will do Bob Haworth s
exercises.
And they did all these things and many others. They looked at the
portraits and found the plain little girl dressed in green brocade and
holding the parrot on her finger.
All these, said Colin, must be my relations. They lived a long time
ago. That parrot one, I believe, is one of my great, great, great,
great aunts. She looks rather like you, Mary not as you look now but as
you looked when you came here. Now you are a great deal fatter and
better looking.
So are you, said Mary, and they both laughed.
They went to the Indian room and amused themselves with the ivory
elephants. They found the rose-colored brocade boudoir and the hole in
the cushion the mouse had left, but the mice had grown up and run away
and the hole was empty. They saw more rooms and made more discoveries
than Mary had made on her first pilgrimage. They found new corridors
and corners and flights of steps and new old pictures they liked and
weird old things they did not know the use of. It was a curiously
entertaining morning and the feeling of wandering about in the same
house with other people but at the same time feeling as if one were
miles away from them was a fascinating thing.
I m glad we came, Colin said. I never knew I lived in such a big
queer old place. I like it. We will ramble about every rainy day. We
shall always be finding new queer corners and things.
That morning they had found among other things such good appetites that
when they returned to Colin s room it was not possible to send the
luncheon away untouched.
When the nurse carried the tray downstairs she slapped it down on the
kitchen dresser so that Mrs. Loomis, the cook, could see the highly
polished dishes and plates.
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