The chamber had an ancient, musty odor, and all the furniture bore an old-fashioned stateliness. There was a queer pattern upon the green bed-curtains, distressing to see; like half-opened eyes, alternately squinting. The big bed-tassel hung down from above in dogged dignity, like the tail of a lion keeping watch up above, on the canopy of the four-poster. Johannes felt very comfortable, yet there was something uncanny around him that he did not quite relish. Once, it really seemed to be the ponderous linen-chest of dark wood, with its big, brass-handled drawers, upon which stood, under a bell-glass, a basket filled with wax fruit. What the pictures represented could not be seen in the dim light, but they were in the secret too, as was also the night-stand with its crocheted cover, and the fearfully big four-poster. Every half-hour "Cuckoo! Cuckoo!" rang through the house, as if those out in the hall and in the vestibule were also in the secret; the only one left out being the little fellow in clean underclothes and a night-gown much too big for him, who lay there, wide awake, looking around him. In the midst of all these solid, important, and dignified things, he was a very odd and out-of-place phenomenon. He felt that, in a polite way, he was being made sport of. Besides, it remained to be seen whether, after his more or less unmannerly adventures, he could ever be taken into confidence. Evidently the entire house was, if not precisely hostile, yet in a very unfriendly attitude. He kept his eye upon the bed-tassel, all ready to see the lion wag his tail. In order to do that, however, he must surely first become "converted," just like Aunt Seréna. When the day dawned, this new life became more pleasant than he had anticipated. Aunt Seréna presided at the breakfast, which consisted of tea, fresh rolls, currant buns, sweet, dark rye-bread, and pulverized aniseed. Upon the pier-tables, bright with sunshine, stood jars of Japanese blue-ware, filled with great, round bouquets of roses, mignonette, and variegated, ornamental grasses. The long glass doors stood open, and the odor of new-mown grass streamed in from the garden to the room, which was already deliciously fragrant with the roses and mignonette, and the fine tea. Aunt Seréna made no allusion to the foregoing day, nor to the death of Johannes' father. She was full of kindly attentions, and interrogated him affably, yet in a very resolute manner, concerning what he had learned at school, and asked who had given him religious instruction. It was now vacation time, and he might rest a little longer, and enjoy himself; but then would come the school again and the catechism.