On the other hand, at Thurloe, humour raced unrestrainedly. The morning's post brought laughter (and tears) with it always. The day's work was a perpetual surprise. Father Vassall would announce his intention of doing something with as solemn a determination as Mr. Kestern would have given to a month's holiday. "I shall wr-wr-write on the v-v-verandah all the morning," he would announce firmly. Or: "I shall r-r-read in the p-p-parlour for t-t-two hours." Sometimes he would go to his room, and not reappear till luncheon. Sometimes he would return to the chapel after breakfast for just as long. In the evenings, before the fire, he would read what he had written during the day, or Paul would read to him. Or they would make tapestry, or wood-carve, or Father Vassall would play the piano; or sit still, occasionally talking, but much more often sitting silently, while peace dripped slowly in on Paul's soul. One never did nothing at Claxted. He himself, in the mornings, usually strolled round till some corner seemed inevitable for a letter, a book, or a poem, or the little table in his bedroom beckoned inexorably to work. In a sentence, the day arranged itself; perhaps better, it presented itself arranged; at Claxted, as it was in the beginning, so it was, and ever would be. Then again, at Thurloe End, the house was invested with a personality. Paul used to wander around at first, making friends. The rooms stood back, gravely, but with a smile hidden in them. The furniture belonged to the house, and had been selected by it, he felt, with care. It had chosen unvarnished oak, for the most part, because its tall, clear windows were looking up always to the light, and old oak is wise about light, taking its measure and passing the rest on enriched. Its chairs, forms, tables, bookcases, were like open hands, holding much graciousness. Moreover it was gravely proud of itself, and not ashamed of its wide walls and the pools of its floors. Where it held out a picture or a print, it did so with a curious restraint, yet with a kind of courtesy. It wore pictures like a beautiful woman wears jewels.