Within the plain little room were some relics that had survived the universal wreck. There was Betty's harp, to which she sang the old-fashioned ballads the Colonel loved. Then, there was the Beverley punch-bowl--a great bowl of old Lowestoft porcelain, with three medallions, representing hunting scenes, and an inscription in faded gilt, "For John Beverley, Esq., of Virginia." It had belonged to many John Beverleys, Esquires, before it came to the Colonel, and was regarded as a sort of fetich in the family. Betty alone had the responsibility of dusting it, and Uncle Cesar would say solemnly:
"I'd heap ruther break my arm than break that thur bowl."
Beside the bowl, there was some quaint old silver and the 1807 decanters, huge things of pink and white cut glass, that had known good vintages in their day. By Betty's harp lay her grandfather's fiddle-case, for the Colonel loved his fiddle, and he and Uncle Cesar, his "boy," fiddled seriously together, as they had done since they were small boys together, sixty years before, and had got rapped over the head with the same fiddle-bow.
There were a plenty of windows in the little room, and, as muslin curtains are cheap, there were plenty of curtains, and geraniums and verbenas too were abundant, as they cost nothing at all. On the walls was a pretty paper, all roses and green leaves, pasted on by Betty's own hands, with Uncle Cesar holding the stepladder while Betty had worked, singing while she worked. It was Betty too who had painted the shabby woodwork white, daubing away gaily, and laughing at her blunders. Nevertheless, she had succeeded, for Betty was a very efficient person. The chimney had a wide throat and drew like a windlass. So, on the whole, the sitting-room at Holly Lodge was a cheerful place.
Betty, standing on a little table, was so engrossed in her occupation of getting the laurel wreath straight over the Colonel's picture, that she did not hear the tramp of a horse's hoofs outside, nor a knock at the front door, nor Uncle Cesar opening it and a man's tread in the little hall. In her eagerness, she reached up very far, and although she was a slim creature, the rickety table trembled under her light foot, and the Colonel cried out: