She now thrust her head forth from her dim old
cavern, and fed her eyes on the flowers and fields and skies and goodly
streams of the great world outside.
While Jane supported her mother against the lumbering charges of Granger
Bates's conversational cavalry, his wife engrossed Marshall's attention
for her dormitory. Her plans had taken shape in her own mind, and were
now beginning to take shape on paper.
"It's more than a mere dormitory, of course." She cleared a space between
them, and took up a dessert-spoon. "Here's the vestibule and
entrance-hall," she began, drawing with the spoon on the table-cloth;
"and here's where the stairs run up. Off to this side--John, do take some
of these glasses away--off to this side"--with a wider sweep of the
spoon--"is a sort of parlor and reception-room--quite a good size, you
see. Right next to it is the dining-room--so that they can be thrown
together, when the girls receive."
"Good," said Bingham; "nothing more civilizing than receptions."
"On this side of the dining-room," pursued Mrs. Bates, "is going to be a
sort of alcove--Jane, dear, just push me over that salt and pepper.
There!" She planted the two bottles in her alcove; "that's the tank for
tea, and this is the tank for coffee. Practical, don't you think?"--to
Bingham.
"First-rate. And I suppose you have a screen that you can put in front."
"Precisely." She laid a tiny spoon across her alcove. "Hardwood floors
down-stairs, throughout.
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