“This is all very pretty, my dears,” he said, “but we don’t want to begin our voyage with bad colds.” So they went into the little drawing-room, with which you are so well acquainted, the lovely little drawing-room, where Drusilla had watched out so many weary nights. A cheerful fire was burning in the grate; and early spring flowers were blooming in the vases; and the curtains that separated it from the little dining-room were drawn aside, showing the snowy damask, shining silver, and Sevres china, of a well-set supper-table. When they had stood before the fire a few moments to evaporate the slight dampness from their clothes and to look around upon the pretty place, the servants were summoned to show them to their several rooms. Drusilla, attended by mammy, carrying little Leonard, went up to her own chamber. It was looking very fresh and bright, pretty and attractive, with its crimson carpet and snowy curtains and its cheerful wood fire. But with what feelings did the young wife and mother enter again this chamber, so filled with sweet and bitter memories? Certainly with some sadness at the thoughts of all the happiness and the misery she had felt in this place. But also with much thankfulness, that she and her child had passed through the fiery trials unscathed—had come forth from them sound in body and mind; and were now blessed with health and happiness and many friends. She sank on her knees for a moment and returned sincere thanks to Divine Providence. And then she arose and made a few necessary changes in her dress, and went below, to await her friends in the drawing-room. They soon joined her there. And then the supper, prepared with mammy’s best skill, was placed upon the table and the party sat down with good appetites to enjoy it. Afterwards Drusilla tried the tone of her new piano, the one that had been ordered and sent to the cottage by her agent when she was expecting to take her friends there to spend the winter. She found it out of tune from disuse, and so gave up the attempt to bring harmony out of it, for that evening. She rang and brought “mammy” up into the drawing-room and said: “Mammy, I shall write to my agent to send a man out here to put this instrument in tune. And after that you must make a fire in this room every wet day and you must play on it.” “Play on the fire, ma’am!” “No, on the piano.” “On the pianner!” “Yes, I tell you.” “Why la, ma’am, I couldn’t do it! It ain’t likely as I could! I don’t know nothing about it! I couldn’t play a tune, not no, if the salvation of my mortial soul depended on to it! I could play on the jewsharp, if that would do.” Drusilla smiled and said: “I don’t suppose you could play any pieces on this instrument. But I tell you what I want you to do. Look here—” And Drusilla opened the piano and sat down before it. And mammy followed her and stood watching her motions.