Suzanna looked about her. The attic was rather sad-looking, she thought, not full of its own importance as the one at home, but still, very interesting. Old portraits hung on the slanting walls. In corners were piles of old furniture looking strangely lifelike in the shadows.
"We'd rather stay up here, Drusilla," she said. "And we'll stay a long time with you, if you like."
"Very good," said Drusilla. She drew forth a low rocker and seated herself.
Suzanna suddenly remembered her manners. "Perhaps we shouldn't have come today anyway," she said. "You were busy with your trunk when we came up."
"I was just looking over some old dresses and relics I've kept for many years," said Drusilla. "There's a dress in there," she said, "that I wore when as a young girl I lived with my parents way back across the ocean."
"A big city?" asked Maizie. "Not like Anchorville?"
"A big city," returned Drusilla. "You see that glass case in the corner? Go and look at it."
Suzanna and Maizie sprang up and went to the dusky corner. On a table stood the glass case, and under it was an apple, a pear, a bunch of grapes, and a banana, all made of wax.
"That came from the city across the water," said Drusilla. "It was given to my grandmother by our old herb woman."
The children left the wax fruit and went and stood quite close to Drusilla. "What's an old herb woman?" asked Maizie, interestedly.