But while she saw Her vital flame burn brightly, as of old On favored days, yet for the rest the flame Sputtered or sank a little. So she thought How good it might be to go west and stroll About the lovely country of LeRoy, And hear the whispering cedars by a window In the Fouche mansion where this Irma Leese, Her aunt, was summering. So she telegraphed, And being welcomed, went. This stately house, Built sixty years before by Arthur Fouche, A brick home with a mansard roof, an oriel That looked between the cedars, and a porch With great Ionic columns, from the street Stood distantly amid ten acres of lawn, Trees, flower plots--belonged to Irma Leese, Who had reclaimed it from a chiropractor, To cleanse the name of Fouche from that indignity, And bring it in the family again, Since she had spent her girlhood, womanhood To twenty years amid its twenty rooms. For Irma Leese at twenty years had married And found herself at twenty-five a widow, With money left her, then had tried again, And after years dissolved the second pact, And made a settlement, was rich in fact, Now forty-two. Five years before had come And found the house she loved a sanitarium, A chiropractor's home. And as she stood Beside the fence and saw the oriel, Remembered all her happiness on this lawn With brothers and with sisters, one of whom Was Elenor Murray's mother, then she willed To buy the place and spend some summers here. And here she was the summer Elenor Murray Returned from France. And Irma Leese had said: "Here is your room, it has the oriel, And there's the river and the hills for you. Have breakfast in your room what hour you will, Rise when you will. We'll drive and walk and rest, Run to Chicago when we have a mind. I have a splendid chauffeur now and maids. You must grow strong and well." And Elenor Murray Gasped out her happiness for the pretty room, And stood and viewed the river and the hills, And wept a little on the gentle shoulder Of Irma Leese.