This farm drawing room or chief sitting room was large, and square in shape, well-furnished too in a cumbrous and old-fashioned style. A huge round table occupied the centre; and ornaments were few. "Gimcrack rubbish! Made to be knocked down and broken. No earthly good!" was Mr. Valentine's verdict on such articles. "Give me a room fit for use, where one needn't be afraid to move:" and his womankind obeyed. He had always had the upper hand, in appearance. Secretly, his wife with her softer touch managed him entirely; and in his heart he knew it; but then she never frittered away strength in needless skirmishes.
"Bertha will come," repeated Prue.
"So I say!" echoed Mr. Valentine.
"But they might want her longer, just a day or two longer at the last."
"I don't think so. The girl was well days ago. They have only kept Bertha on, because they have grown fond of her."
"Nobody can help being fond of our Bertha."
Prue's impassive eyes gleamed a faint assent. "We will have tea ready, mother. She cannot be long now."
"Don't you be too sure. Snow hinders trains," said Mr. Valentine. "Where's Wallace?"
"Out in the snow with Nan, somewhere. He is as crazy as she."
"Nan will catch cold."