The room was not large, but it was square. Its woodwork was snowy white, its floor covered with a blue velvet carpet so thick and soft, so beautiful in shade that Beth dared not move across it. A white dresser stood between a cluster of blue flower lights; a white dressing table stood opposite between another such group of lights. Willow chairs, blue cushioned, or all snowy white, stood around; a teakwood table and a teakwood bookcase gave the tone needed to bring out the delicate beauty of this room, and the bedstead, a four poster with a blue tester, was made of willow, like the chairs, and covered with a white silk counterpane, embroidered with blue violets strewn all over its surface. Blue velour curtains over snowy lace ones shut off the light from the two windows and made a background for the whole. “It isn’t my room, Anna Mary?” gasped Beth. Anna Mary had fearlessly crossed the delicate carpet and had opened a door and hung Beth’s coat--oh, if Miss Tappan could have dreamed of this room when she made that coat!--in what Beth supposed was the closet, and turned to her to get her hat. “Whose else?” demanded Anna Mary. “In here’s your dressin’ room and wardrobes, Miss Beth. There’s runnin’ water here; you’ll likely share your cousins’ bathroom; I’ll show you it.” She led the way through the dressing room and through a small square entry with four doors opening on it, Beth’s door and three others. “Those doors lead to your two young girl cousins’ rooms, Miss Natalie and Miss Alys’s apartments, and this is the bathroom which they use, and you will use it, or they wouldn’t have given you the room you have--it’s a family room, do you see? Guests never are put in this wing of the house, not outside guests,” explained Anna Mary. “Yes,” said Beth, but she did not see in the least. All that she saw was a room that convinced her the whole thing was a fairy story into which she had got by some means, much as Alice fell into Wonderland, for no mere bathroom could be like this! The ceiling was thick, cloudy glass; through it a clear, soft light, like moonlight, flooded the room. The floor was white marble; at one point it began to slant down till it disappeared in a lake of water that gently rose up in varying depths to meet it. Up the white walls climbed vines abloom with pale tea roses; Beth had to touch them to be sure that they were painted. Over beyond the lake, which was the beautiful substitute for the tubs that Beth had seen, were water-lilies floating on a little pond separate from the lake--and these were real--they were growing there; Beth touched them and they bent under her finger and gave out their exquisite perfume.