She ignores the debris of the carpenters who have been putting in the hardwood floors, without glancing at it, and walking to her guests, welcomes them with regal splendor, receiving Miss Mueller with rather obvious dignity. Mrs. Nesbit in those days was a woman of whom the doctor said, "There is no foolishness about Bedelia." The jovial Mr. Brotherton attempts some pleasant hyperbole of speech, which the hostess ignores and the Doctor greets with a smile. Mrs. Nesbit leads the way to the piano, being a woman of purpose, and whisks the eldest Miss Morton upon a stool and has the hymn book opened in less time than it takes to tell how she did it. The Doctor and Laura stand watching the company, and perhaps they stand awkwardly; which prompts Mr. Brotherton in the goodness of his heart to say, "Doctor, won't you sit and hear the music?" Mrs. Nesbit looks around, sees the two figures standing near the fire and replies, "No, the Doctor won't." To which he chirps a mocking echo--"No, the Doctor won't." Mr. Brotherton glances at Mr. Fenn, and the Doctor sees it. "That's all right, boys--that's all right; I may be satrap of Harvey and have the power of life and death over my subjects, but that's down town. Out here, I'm the minority report." Mrs. Nesbit opens the hymn book, smooths the fluttering leaves and says without looking toward the Doctor: "I suppose we may as well begin now." And she begins beating the time with her index finger and marking the accents with her foot. As they sing they can hear the gentle drone of the Doctor's soft voice in the intervals in the music, reading in some nearby room to his daughter. They are reading Tennyson's "Maud" and sometimes in the emotional passages his voice breaks and his eyes fill up and he cannot go on. At such times, the daughter puts her head upon his shoulder and often wipes her tears away upon his coat and they are silent until he can begin again. When his throat cramps, she pats his cheek and they sit dreaming for a time and the dreams they dream and the dreams they read differ only in that the poetry is made with words.