"Or very cross always," thought Major Graham. "But here we are, Laura,
near our journey's end. Allow me to introduce you to Holiday House! Why,
you are staring at it like a dog looking at a piece of cold beef! My
dear girl, if you open your eyes so wide, you will never be able to shut
them again!"
Holiday House was not one of those prodigious places, too grand to be
pleasant, with the garden a mile off in one direction, and the farm a
mile off in another, and the drawing-room a mile off from the
dining-room; but it was a very cheerful modern mansion, with rooms
enough to hold as many people as any one could desire to see at once,
all very comfortably furnished. A lively, dashing river, streamed past
the windows; a small park, sprinkled with sheep, and shaded by fine
trees, surrounded the house; and beyond were beautiful gardens filled
with a superabundance of the gayest and sweetest common flowers. Roses,
carnations, wall flowers, holly-hocks, dahlias, lilies, and violets,
were assembled there in such crowds, that Laura might have plucked
nosegays all day, without making any visible difference; and she was
also made free of the gooseberry bushes and cherry-trees, with leave to
gather, if she pleased, more than she could eat.
Every morning, Laura entered the breakfast-room with cheeks like the
roses she carried, bringing little bouquets for all the ladies, which
she had started out of bed early, in order to gather; and her great
delight was to see them worn and admired all the forenoon, while she was
complimented on the taste with which they had been selected and
arranged. She filled every ornamental jar, basin, and tea-cup in the
drawing-room, with groups of roses, and would have been the terror of
any gardener but the one at Holiday House, who liked to see his flowers
so much admired, and was not keeping up any for a horticultural show.
Laura's chief delight, however, was in the dairy, which seemed the most
beautiful thing she had ever beheld, being built of rough transparent
spar, which looked exactly like crystal, and reminded her of the ice
palace built by the Empress of Russia. The windows were of painted
glass; the walls and shelves were of Dutch tiles, and in the centre rose
a beautiful jet d'eau of clear bright water.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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