"Is it possible? But Verry does not care so much for them, either. Lilies are her favorites; she has a variety. Look at this Arab lily; it is like a tongue of fire."
"Where does she keep her flowers?"
"In wire baskets, in her room. But I must go to make Arthur some gingerbread. He likes mine the best, and I like to please him."
"I dare say you spoil him."
"Just as you were spoiled."
"Not in Barmouth, Aunt Merce."
"No, not in Barmouth, Cassy."
I went from room to room, seeing little to interest me. My zeal oozed away for exploration, and when I entered my chamber I could have said, "This spot is the summary of my wants, for it contains me." I must be my own society, and as my society was not agreeable, the more circumscribed it was, the better I could endure it. What a dreary prospect! The past was vital, the present dead! Life in Surrey must be dull. How could I forget or enjoy? I put the curtains down, and told Temperance, who was wandering about, not to call me to dinner. I determined, if possible, to surpass my dullness by indulgence. But underneath it all I could not deny that there was a specter, whose aimless movements kept me from stagnating. I determined to drag it up and face it.
"Come," I called, "and stand before me; we will reason together."
It uncovered, and asked: