Yes, it was a rather pale, wild-eyed little Pearl, who on the first day of July scrambled together into her trunk what she could find, put on the hat which had been so bright and pretty when Aunt Pearl gave it to her at Easter, and which now after two months with the Manleys looked like a floor-cloth. She did not put her hands over her ears to deaden a little the volume of noise as they all crowded about her in the station to say their affectionate and vociferous good-byes, but that was only because she did not want to hurt their feelings. The instant she was in the train, she always hid her face in her arms, quivering all over with nervous tension. Oh, the noise the Manleys always made over everything, and the confusion they were always in, when they tried to do anything, colliding with each other, and dropping things, and squealing and screaming! And it was all right for them to be warm-hearted and generous--but when they slathered money on ice-cream, and then didn’t have enough to pay for her ticket, till they’d borrowed it ...! Well, then there was the re-entrance into the Purdon house, the beautiful, fragrant cleanliness of everything, the dustless order, her own room, with the clean, white sheets, and her own safe closet into which nobody would ever plunge rummaging. And Aunt Maria so quiet and calm, with her nice low voice, and Grandmother Purdon so neat with her white lace collar, and her lovely white hair so well-brushed, and oh, the good things to eat.... To sit down to a well-ordered table, with a well-cooked savory mutton stew, and potatoes neither watery nor underdone, and clear apple jelly quivering in a glass dish! And the clean, clean dishes! Had Maria ever complained of having to rinse the dishes too often! She remembered the dried-on bits of food always to be felt on the Manley plates ...! The first evening too was always dream-like, the quiet, deft despatching of the dishes, in the kitchen shining with cleanliness, and then all the evening free, and so quiet, so blessedly quiet, with no trombone, and no whoops of chatter or boisterous crying and laughing; no piano banging (except perhaps Aunt Maria softly playing a hymn or two), no children overturning chairs and slamming doors, no one falling up or downstairs, no crash of breaking crockery from the kitchen ... little Maria sat on the well-swept porch behind the well-trained vines and soaked herself in the peace and quiet.