It was low and plain, yet it was light and pleasant. Windows opening like doors upon the piazza, and the piazza running all round the house, and the pillars of the piazza wreathed thick with honeysuckles, some of them, and some with climbing roses. The breath of the salt air was smothered in perfumes. Through one of the open window-doors Diana went into a matted room, where everything gave her the instant impression of neatness and coolness and quiet, and a certain sweet summer freshness, which suited her exactly. There was no attempt at richness of furnishing. Yet the old lady who stood there waiting to receive her was a stately lady enough, in a spotless morning dress of white, dainty and ruffled, and a little close embroidered cap above her clustering grey curls. The two looked at each other. "So you're his wife!" said the elder lady. "I declare, you're handsomer than he is. Come in here, my dear; if you are as good as he is, you are welcome." She opened an inner door and led the way into a bedchamber adjoining, opening like the other room by window-doors upon the piazza, matted and cool and furnished in white. All this Diana took in with the first step into the room. But she answered Mrs. Sutphen's peculiar welcome. "Did you ever know anybody so good as he is, ma'am?" "Breakfast will be on table as soon as you are ready," Mrs. Sutphen went on without heeding her words. "It is half-past seven, and I always have it at seven. I waited for you, and now I want my cup of tea. How soon will you be ready?" "Immediately." "What will you do with the baby?" "I will lay her down. She is asleep." "You'll have to have somebody to look after her. Well, come then, my dear." Diana followed the old lady, who was half imperative and half impatient. She never forgot that hour in all her life, everything was so new and strange. The windows open towards the water, the fresh salt air coming in, the India matting under her feet, made her feel as if she had got into a new world. The dishes were also in part strange to her, and her only companion fully strange. The good cup of tea she received was almost the only familiar thing, for the very bread was like no bread she had ever seen before. Diana sipped her tea gratefully; all this novelty was the most welcome thing in the world to her overstrained nerves. She sipped her tea as in a dream; the old lady studied her with eyes wide awake and practical. "Where did Basil pick you up, my dear?" Diana started a little, looked up, and flushed. "Where did you come from?" "From the place where Mr. Masters has been settled these three or four years." "In the mountains! What sort of people have you got there? More of your sort?" "They are all of my sort," said Diana somewhat wonderingly. "Do you know what your sort is, my dear?" "I do not understand"-- "I thought you did not. I'll change my question. What sort of work is Basil doing there?"