All unpleasant tasks were laid aside; the blinds in the cosey upstairs sitting-room were closed, with the slats turned to admit the breeze and the droning sound of the bees humming in the old garden. This old garden was left to its own sweet will, and by August it was a thoroughly sweet will; its varied-shaped beds were lush with a profusion of honey-laden blossoms, whose fragrance permeated everywhere.
Every taint of annoyance seemed banished from the little grey house when Cousin Peace came to spend the day. Mrs. Grey was hemming delicately cool linen to be divided into family collars, and feather-stitched. Wythie was putting new sleeves into Prue's cherished white gown, Roberta was making fresh, clean-looking, green-and-white gingham into an apron, and Prue was shelling peas, the juicy sweetness of their pods adding to the pleasant summer smells around them. Miss Charlotte was knitting—she was usually knitting—little fleecy white things to wrap babies in, and bright mittens for little hands.
"I have a new magazine here which Mrs. Silsby sent down yesterday by Frances, Charlotte," said Mrs. Grey, "but I thought we would keep it for those lazy hours after dinner, then one of the girls must read to us."
"That sounds attractive," said Cousin Peace. "Will Sylvester join us?"
"Oh, Charlotte, no," cried Mrs. Grey. "Sylvester is absolutely swallowed up in his invention; he has no eyes, nor ears, nor thoughts to spare from it. Rob is the only one who sees him lately, and that is because she helps him. He expects to finish the machine in a few months, but in the meantime he is so concentrated on it, and seems so excited that I can only long for its completion, and his relief from this strain, whatever the result of the work may be."
"I thought the last time I saw him that he was not looking well," said Miss Charlotte.
The girls were accustomed to her speaking as though she saw the people and things around her; to her delicately keen perceptions there was really little difference between blindness and sight.
"I am anxious," said Mrs. Grey. "Dear Charlotte, only suppose he were to be really ill!"
"We won't suppose it," said Cousin Peace, cheerily.