it asked.... “House is furnished every bit new,” Thomas said. “But I got chair as near the old one as I could.” “Oh, ay, it’s a grand chair, thank ye—real smart.” “Nay, I doubt it isn’t much, but it’s the best we’ve got.” “Marget wouldn’t ha’ let me set in the best chair.” “You shall set where you like, Father, in _this_ house!” Agnes flashed. “It’s queer if you can’t do as suits you best, I’m sure!” Kit said she was right kind, and let his arms lie slackly along the arms of the new chair. The bright leather was cool and slippery to his sensitive old hands. The old chair had been covered with carpet that was rough to the touch—dark green and threadbare in many spots, with a pattern of ringed daisies centred by a faded rose.... It was all very well to say that he might choose; he was pinned to this new horror, nevertheless. Not here, any more than at Marget’s, could he sit exactly where he wished.... “Likely you’ve noticed we’ve a new kitchen range? Landlord said it was t’best as could be got.” “Ay, I see it first thing,” Kit said, and looked away. “Walls is new-washed, of course, and paint’s new, too. Yon old winder-sash gone——” “Ay.” “—new sink in back kitchen ... cupboards ... carpet on t’stairs——” Agnes made a noise with the pot, and said the tea was mashed and they’d best set to. It was just like Thomas to spoil her pet surprise, but luckily it passed the old man by. He rose to his feet obediently when she spoke, and was set at the table, still in the hated chair. Agnes was telling him he wanted his tea, and he tried to agree with her, knowing that he lied. The light from the west still lay across the room, and blinded and hurt his unaccustomed eyes. He could not see the table as Agnes hoped he might—as she herself saw it with an artist’s pride. For her, every detail stood out on the whiteness of the cloth, coloured and glorified by the clear sun. The light was cool as water on china and polished plate, and rich on yellow butter and the pink surface of the ham. There were creamy scones and a gingerbread cake ... lavender in a vase ... deep crimson jam and eggs with warm brown shells. A white geranium stood on a sill, showing the sky behind it far and blue.... Thomas carved the ham and went on talking about the house. “There’s a deal that’s new above-stairs as well; beds and quilts and suchlike, and a deal besides. You could eat off the floors as easy as yon dish. Missis keeps the place like a new pin.” “Marget’s nobbut a dirty slut,” Kit said. “Last week I come a terble bang over a pail.” “Eh, now, but yon was wicked, if you like!” Agnes’s eyes dwelt pityingly upon him as she passed the tea. “She might ha’ finished you,” Thomas added, handing ham.