Just then a beautiful sound stole through the room. I could not tell what it was or where it came from, but grandmother smiled at my surprise and told me that it was only the dinner gong. So she arose and said: “Your arm, Azalea, please,” and we went down the long drawing-room together, and when we reached the door the old butler threw wide the leaves of it for us, and we crossed the great corridor and went to the dining room. It was all glittering with silver and glass and shining with white linen and glowing with flowers, and there was the butler and a man to help him, and Martha, grandmother’s own woman, to stand behind her chair. Try to think of your own rough and ready Azalea, sitting there amid that grandeur, acting as if she were used to it. But it is asking too much of you, isn’t it, honey? Everyone talked very softly, and when they laughed they seemed to do so rather cautiously, and the servants moved about as if it would be a terrible crime to make a noise, though I could see perfectly well by the expression of their faces, that they took an interest in everything. Of course we had delicious things to eat. There was some kind of a frozen dessert that Aunt Lorena said was made in my honor. “We have this only on notable occasions,” she declared. After dinner we went back to the drawing-room again, and my grandmother asked me to sing. So I did, but not very well, and she asked me to dance, and I did that, too, with Aunt Lorena playing for me. But I don’t believe I danced very well either. Making up a solo dance as you go along isn’t easy, is it, Carin? But at any rate, grandmother seemed pleased, and I am sure it helped her to pass the evening. The last hour I sat beside her, telling her stories of Mother McBirney and all my friends, and she kept her hand on my arm, and now and then cried to Uncle David: “Isn’t it incredible that we have found her? Isn’t she the picture of your brother Jack?” Finally Aunt Lorena said it was time for us all to go to bed, and when grandmother protested, she reminded her how weary we were from our long journey. So old Martha was called for grandmother, and Semmy was called for me, and we all went off to our rooms. I had to laugh a little—at least, I think I laughed, but maybe I cried, too—to think of my little loft at home, and the pieces of round tin nailed over the mouse holes. And then to look around at this new room of mine! The bed was soft as down, and scented with lavender, and there was an eiderdown comfort to snuggle under. It was such a wonderful bed that I couldn’t go to sleep for thinking about it, but lay awake for a long time, as I never had done in my little loft. There was much to think over, Carin—so much. And always I kept wondering: “Have I done right? Is this going to help me weave my silver web?”