ng at the front door.
She ushered us in; the children turned out to belong to the married brother, and his wife appeared also.
While I was uncloaking Mary [Mrs. Higginson], Lucy disappeared and came in leading a fine, hale, sturdy, stout old lady, saying, with an air of love and pride,. Mr. Higginson, this is my mother, my own mother, and the old lady looked as happy as she did.
We had provided a box of greenhouse flowers, but no orange blossoms, being unattainable; but we found that Anna Parsons had supplied that deficiency, and we had everything else, including cloth-of-gold roses.
The children flocked round to see me arrange them in glasses, and Lucy was very sweet to them, her word seemed to be law and love together.
A handful of fallen blossoms she distributed among them....
It was a large, low old room with an open wood fire; the children sat in little armchairs before its glow; and Charles Burleigh's long hair looked like the locks of an ancient bard.
We went in to