While these scenes were going on, Mr. and Mrs. Gervase Piercey were very differently employed upstairs. When Patty had finished her tea, and when she had made the survey of the library, concerning which her conclusion was that these horrid bookcases must be cleared away, and that a full-length portrait of herself in the white satin which had not, yet ought to have been, her wedding-dress, would do a great deal for the cheerfulness of the room, she took her husband’s arm, and desired him to conduct her over the house. When Patty saw the drawing-room, which was very large, cold, and light in colour, with chairs and chandeliers in brown holland, she changed her mind about the library. She had not been aware of the existence of this drawing-room. “This is where we shall sit, of course,” she said. “Father can’t abide it,” said Gervase. “Oh, your father is a very nice old gentleman. He will have to put up with it,” said the new lady of the house. In imagination she saw herself seated there, receiving the county, and the spirit of Patty was uplifted. She felt, for the first time, without any admixture of disappointment, that here was her sphere. When she was taken upstairs, however, to Gervase’s room, she regarded it by no means with the same satisfaction. It was a large room, but sparsely furnished, in no respect like the luxurious bower she had imagined for herself. “Take off my bonnet here!” she said: “no, indeed I sha’n’t. Why, there is not even a drapery to the toilet table. I have not come to Greyshott, I hope, to have less comfort than I had at home. There must be spare rooms. Take me to the best of the spare rooms.” “There’s the prince’s room,” said Gervase, “but nobody sleeps there since some fellow of a prince--I can’t tell you what prince---- And I haven’t got the keys; it’s Parsons that has got the keys.” “You can call Parsons, I suppose. Ring the bell,” said Patty, seizing the opportunity to look at herself in the glass, though she surveyed the room with contempt. “Lord!” cried Gervase. “Parsons, mother’s own woman----.” Then he threw himself down in his favourite chair with his hands in his pockets. “You can do it yourself. I’m not going to catch a scolding for you.” “A scolding!” said Patty; “and who is going to scold you, you silly fellow, except me? I should like to see them try--Mrs. Parsons or Sir Giles, or any one. You can just say, ‘Speak to my wife.’” “There’s mother, that you daren’t set up your face to. I say,” said Gervase; “Patty, what’s all this about mother? Mother’s--dead? She’ll never have a word to say about anything any more?” “Dear mother!” said Patty. “You must always say dear mother, Gervase, now: I’m sure I should have loved her--but, you see, Providence never gave me the opportunity. No, she’ll never have a word to say: it’s me that will have everything to say.--Oh, you have answered the bell at last! Send Mrs. Parsons here.”