“And now, dear, we will go down,” said Mrs. Lynn, leading the way. When they had reached the beautiful octagon chamber, Em. said: “The season is late autumn, and the weather seems cold outside, yet the temperature in here is that of summer, although I see no means of heating this charming place.” “Do you not?” inquired the lady, smiling. “No, indeed.” “What do you take this to be?” she asked, pointing to a piece of furniture that looked like a large pedestal and vase of alabaster and Bohemian glass and stood near the center of the room. “That? Why, an elegant flower stand, to be sure!” said Em., wondering. “Why, so it is in summer; but in autumn and winter we put it to a different use. Lay your hand on it—lightly, Em.” The girl placed her hand on the pedestal and quickly withdrew it, exclaiming: “It is hot!” “Yes, and it heats the room. It is one of those porcelain stoves, such as those with which the Russian palaces are partly heated. And see, dear, the vase on top is kept full of rose-water, which diffuses both moisture and perfume throughout the atmosphere.” “Oh, how perfect! I could not have conceived of a place so perfect, if indeed it is not all a dream!” breathed Em. “And now, love, I will leave you to make your toilet for dinner. There, in those drawers and wardrobes of your dressing-room, you will find an outfit, such as I wish you to wear. Youth should always dress in white while in the house, Em. At least I think so, even at this time of the year. And you may do so with impunity, for, as you say, although the season is autumn, the atmosphere is summer. It is _always_ summer at Edengarden,” the lady added with a smile as she pressed a kiss upon the lips of Em. and left the room. Em. stood for a moment looking about herself, still dazzled and bewildered by the novelty and beauty of her surroundings, and then, child like, she went to each rosesilk and lace-draped window and in turn opened it and stepped out upon the marble balcony. There were four of these, be it remembered, each affording strict privacy and commanding a magnificent view. While she was still standing on the balcony outside of the east window she was startled by a voice in the room calling out: “Miss Em.! Where is yer, honey? Come out here, honey.” “I _am_ ‘out here,’ Pony,” laughed the girl, “but I will step _in_, if you want me.” “Oh, I t’ought you was in your bedroom, maybe. My mist’ess has sent me up here to help yer to dress, chile.” “Thank you, aunty,” said Em. as she came into the room. Pony herself went into the dressing-closet and began to overhaul the fresh wardrobe, saying: “There’s your nice gauze flannels in this bottom drawer, honey, and yer cambric skirts in this, and yer dresses in the wardrobe, and yer——” “Pony,” interrupted Em., “I have not known your dear and lovely mistress for a week, and here she has a complete outfit for me. How on earth could she have got it?”