“I’m sure I shall,” Mary replied.
And so she did. It would be difficult to describe the whole house, of course, but I must tell you how pretty the drawing-room was. It was almost quite round, with windows at one side, and the fire-place, in which a nice bright fire was burning, underneath the middle window, so that while sitting in front of it and feeling as warm as a toast, you could glance up to the sky, and see the trees moving in the wind and the birds flying across, while the creepers, twined round the panes, nodded at you in a friendly way.
Below the other windows, which were not so high up, were cushioned seats, very tempting, as from them one could see the prettiest parts of the garden and the many birds, who at all seasons of the year had been encouraged by Miss Verity’s kindness to look upon Dove’s Nest as a home of pleasure and safety. The rest of the room was very pretty too, though just a little old-fashioned. There were not quite so many sofas and low chairs and cushions as one sees in drawing-rooms nowadays, for when Miss Verity was young such things were considered only suitable for quite old people or invalids, and Mary’s godmother was certainly not an invalid, and did not feel herself very old either, though her hair was so white.
But Mary’s eyes travelled at once to the windows, and she darted across the room to look out.
“Oh, how nice!” she exclaimed. “What a lovely lawn, and what dear little birds hopping about!”
“I am so glad you like it,” said Miss Verity, “for your room at one side looks out the same way. My own room is over this, the birds and I say ‘How-do-you-do?’ to each other every morning. Shall we go upstairs at once for you to take off your hat and jacket, and then we can have tea.”
Mary was delighted to follow Miss Verity, for Pleasance’s description had made her eager to see her own corner of Dove’s Nest. Her godmother crossed the square hall and opened a door which led into another little hall or anteroom, from which a wide shallow-stepped staircase led to the next floor.
Here they found themselves in a long passage—Miss Verity walked on quickly, passing two or three doors, and stopping for a moment at one which was slightly open.
“That is my room,” she said, and Mary, glancing in, saw the same round shape with windows at one side as downstairs, “and yours,” Miss Verity went on, “is really almost next it, though I daresay you would not have guessed it, as it seems a long way off.”
Then she opened another door, a little farther on, and to Mary’s surprise and pleasure a second staircase came in sight. This time it was a narrow “twisty-turny” one, leading up into a kind of turret at one end of the house. This turret was so covered with ivy and other evergreen, or almost evergreen, creepers, that from the outside it was scarcely to be distinguished from the mass of trees in the background. The staircase was not high, as the house was really only a two-storied one, but when Miss Verity got to the top there was another door to open, then a short passage, at one end of which were a few steps leading to a small landing, nearly all window, and at the other end two or three steps down again into another little landing, almost like a room, and across this at last, Mary’s own “nest.”