“Now, take a good look, and tell me what you think of it,” said Dr. Alec, opening the door and letting her enter before him, while Phebe was seen whisking down the backstairs with a dust-pan. Rose walked to the middle of the room, stood still, and gazed about her with eyes that brightened as they looked, for all was changed. This chamber had been built out over the library to suit some fancy, and had been unused for years, except at Christmas times, when the old house overflowed. It had three windows one to the east, that overlooked the bay; one to the south, where the horse-chestnuts waved their green fans; and one to the west, towards the hill and the evening sky. A ruddy sunset burned there now, filling the room with an enchanted glow; the soft murmur of the sea was heard, and a robin chirped “Good-night!” among the budding trees. Rose saw and heard these things first, and felt their beauty with a child's quick instinct; then her eye took in the altered aspect of the room, once so shrouded, still and solitary, now so full of light and warmth and simple luxury. India matting covered the floor, with a gay rug here and there; the antique andirons shone on the wide hearth, where a cheery blaze dispelled the dampness of the long-closed room. Bamboo lounges and chairs stood about, and quaint little tables in cosy corners; one bearing a pretty basket, one a desk, and on a third lay several familiar-looking books. In a recess stood a narrow white bed, with a lovely Madonna hanging over it. The Japanese screen half-folded back showed a delicate toilet service of blue and white set forth on a marble slab, and near by was the great bath-pan, with Turkish towels and a sponge as big as Rose's head. “Uncle must love cold water like a duck,” she thought, with a shiver. Then her eye went on to the tall cabinet, where a half-open door revealed a tempting array of the drawers, shelves and “cubby holes,” which so delight the hearts of children. “What a grand place for my new things,” she thought, wondering what her uncle kept in that cedar retreat. “Oh me, what a sweet toilet table!” was her next mental exclamation, as she approached this inviting spot. A round old-fashioned mirror hung over it, with a gilt eagle a-top, holding in his beak the knot of blue ribbon that tied up a curtain of muslin falling on either side of the table, where appeared little ivory-handled brushes, two slender silver candle-sticks, a porcelain match-box, several pretty trays for small matters, and, most imposing of all, a plump blue silk cushion, coquettishly trimmed with lace, and pink rose-buds at the corners. That cushion rather astonished Rose; in fact, the whole table did, and she was just thinking, with a sly smile, “Uncle is a dandy, but I never should have guessed it,” when he opened the door of a large closet, saying, with a careless wave of the hand, “Men like plenty of room for their rattle-traps; don't you think that ought to satisfy me?”