"Mamma," cried Missy, when she was alone with Mrs. Varian, "what kind of creature have we got hold of?" "I can't classify her," said her mother. "But I am afraid it will be very hard to use hospitality without grudging towards a woman who talks so about her grandfather, and who knows so much more than we do about the sacerdotal systems of the prehistoric races." "I'd much rather she'd talk of things I don't understand, than of things I do. How long do you suppose she is going to stay?" "I am afraid Harriet will never be willing to let her go, she seems so charmed with her." "Don't you think she might be persuaded to take Aunt Harriet home to Boston with her, to live? Fancy, a few minds to tea two or three times a week, and on the alternate nights, lectures, and clubs, and classes. It is just what Aunt Harriet needs, indeed it is. See if you can't lead up to it, mamma." The next morning, when Missy passed the guest's room, the door of which stood open, she was surprised to see a complete revolution in the furniture. The rugs had all been taken away, the curtains, unhooked and folded up, were lying on a chair, the sofa and two upholstered chairs were rolled away into the adjoining chamber. The bed, pushed out into the room, stood in a most awkward attitude at right angles with nothing. On the pillow was pinned a pocket compass, which indicated due north. Goneril, who was putting the room in order, with set teeth, explained that it was by the lady's orders, who had instructed her that her bed must always stand at exactly that angle, on account of the electric currents. "I take it," said the woman, "she doesn't like to ride backwards." The rugs were liable to contain disease germs, as well as the upholstered furniture, and she had intimated that she would like the walls rubbed down with carbolic once or twice a week. "I told her," snapped Goneril, "that we weren't a hospital, no more were we a hotel."