A rickety rocking-chair, of modern make, and a tall, gray-painted cupboard were the only pieces of furniture that Jannet could see. It was quite evident that her uncle had had all the valuable furniture of an older day put into use, keeping no useless articles to fill the attic. Even the old, old cradle stood in the old kitchen, not far from the old, old settle, with its rockers, too.
Jannet’s eye, which had become practiced by this time among the so-called antiques, recognized something good in the narrow bed against the wall. That was an old-timer, too; but there was, perhaps, no place for it, or it was not quite ancient enough. Jannet lifted the gay cover to peer beneath. One bundle, newly tied in newspapers not quite covering the contents, showed comforters, put away now for the warmer season. Bundles of longer standing showed dingy in muslin covers.
These, surely, were not interesting. A long, painted chest whose lock was broken, disclosed piles of extra sheets, pillow cases and other stores of the same kind, when Jannet lifted its worn lid. But the trunks were more attractive in possibilities, and Jannet tried to read the names or letters on their sides. Here was one that must have been her grandmother’s and this big one had her mother’s initials upon it. She would open that pretty soon. And oh, what odd little things those were in the corner, two square, black trunks, if you could call them that. They were more like boxes in size, but they had all the straps of a trunk. And if there wasn’t a little old hair trunk under the two of them! It was a wonder that Uncle Pieter had not taken it down into the kitchen!
Jannet decided to open her mother’s trunk and looked through her keys, trying several before she found one which would fit the lock. Her mother might have put away the contents just before her marriage, thinking that she would soon be home again to look them over. Jannet pulled the trunk out from the rest, opened the top and drew up the rickety rocking-chair, which she tried carefully before trusting herself to it.
Comfortably seated, with a few rays of the afternoon sunlight coming over her shoulder to the trunk, Jannet commenced her survey. There were all sorts of “cubbies” in this trunk. One in the very top of the trunk opened down, when one loosened a leather strap from a button. But in this there were only a handful of flowers ripped from some hat, some pink roses, still very pretty, and a wreath of yellow buttercups and green leaves. Jannet decided to get a big sun hat and wear that wreath this summer.
In the top tray, two hats, perfectly good, but of a style impossible to wear now, occupied the compartment for hats, with several veils and more French flowers. Some letters were loosely packed in along the sides, with some foreign postcards, much scribbled.
In the compartment next, there were a pile of old music, some note books, photographs, more letters, and over all a sheer white organdy dress, washed but not ironed, and pressed in irregularly to fill the compartment.
Jannet lifted out this tray to find another beneath it. Ah, here were pretty things! Neatly folded, a light blue silk lay on top, covered with a linen towel. A lace and net dress was beneath this. Jannet did not disturb the folds. These could be examined when she had more of the day before her.
In the lower part of the trunk, Jannet found more pretty clothes and a box containing her mother’s wedding veil. This, indeed, she drew out, handling it with a certain reverence. Yes, it was the veil in the picture, delicate, with rose point lace and the pretty crown still as it had been worn except for the orange blossoms. These Jannet found lying in another box among the dresses. Dry and ready to fall to pieces at a touch, they were easily recognized, nevertheless.
Touched and silent, Jannet sat still for a few moments, the veil half out of the box in her hands, the little box with the orange blossoms open beside her. It was sad, but it was worth everything to have these things that made her mother so real, her pretty mother!