"There. Walk in. This is your chamber."
Mrs. Lem threw open the door of a blue-papered room whose ceiling sloped at one side, while on the other were two windows curtained in dimity.
"I didn't expect to see a room of this size," said Sylvia.
"Oh, it's quite a copious house," returned Mrs. Lem leniently, "for a country place. It took me some while to get used to these slopin' kind o' rooms. I ain't from these parts. I lived to Clarksville before I was married. There, you can loop them curtains back more if you want to."
"They're very pretty," commented the girl.
"Yes. Of course they ain't point de spray, but they do well enough for here."
"Looped back. Oh, I should think so," said Sylvia, pushing the folds aside and looking down the western decline of the hill, where a wide reach of Casco Bay came in view. Small snowy sails were flying out to sea, like a flock of white butterflies.
"I guess the fishermen think handsome weather's set in. Them are the mackerel boats," explained Mrs. Lem. "They ain't had a good chance for a fortnight. It's ben so cold and homely 'twa'n't plausible for 'em to go out." Mrs. Lem patted her pompadour.
"I can see a thousand Christmas trees from this window," said Sylvia.
"Yes, it's real sightly. Judge Trent has just the same view from his room. It's his favorite."