At sight of Piers this young
person, evidently a servant, drew back smiling, and said with a
strong Irish accent:
"Please to come in. They're expecting of you."
He passed into a large room, magnificently lighted by the sunshine,
but very simply furnished. A small round table, two or three chairs
and a piano were lost on the great floor, which had no carpeting,
only a small Indian rug being displayed as a thing of beauty, in the
very middle. There were no pictures, but here and there, to break
the surface of the wall, strips of bright-coloured material were
hung from the cornice. At the table, next the window, sat a man
writing, also, as his lips showed, whistling a tune; and on the bare
boards beside him sat a young woman with her baby on her lap,
another child, of two or three years old, amusing itself by pulling
her dishevelled hair.
"Here's your brother, Mr. Otw'y," yelled the little servant. "Give
that baby to me, mum. I know what'll quoiet him, bless his little
heart."
Alexander sprang up, waving his arm in welcome. He was a stoutish
man of middle height, with thick curly auburn hair, and a full
beard; geniality beamed from his blue eyes.
"Is it yourself, Piers?" he shouted, with utterance suggestive of
the Emerald Isle, though the man was so loudly English. "It does me
good to set eyes on you, upon my soul, it does! I knew you'd come.
Didn't I say he'd come, Biddy?--Piers, this is my wife, Bridget
the best wife living in all the four quarters of the world!"
Mrs.
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