I have a great fancy for taking tea out of
doors, Ellen, in warm weather; and if you do not mind a
musquito or two, I shall be always happy to have your company.
That door opens into the hall; look out and see, for I want
you to get the geography of the house. That odd-looking,
lumbering, painted concern is my cabinet of curiosities. I
tried my best to make the carpenter man at Thirlwall
understand what sort of a thing I wanted, and did all but show
him how to make it; but, as the southerners say, 'he hasn't
made it right nohow!' There I keep my dried flowers, my
minerals, and a very odd collection of curious things of all
sorts that I am constantly picking up. I'll show you them some
day, Ellen. Have you a fancy for curiosities?"
"Yes, Ma’am, I believe so."
"Believe so! not more sure than that? Are you a lover of dead
moths, and empty beetle-skins, and butterflies' wings, and dry
tufts of moss, and curious stones, and pieces of ribbon-grass,
and strange birds' nests? These are some of the things I used
to delight in when I was about as old as you."
"I don't know, Ma’am," said Ellen. "I never was where I could
get them."
"Weren't you? Poor child! Then you have been shut up to brick
walls and paving-stones all your life?"
"Yes, Ma’am, all my life."
"But now you have seen a little of the country — don't you
think you shall like it better?"
"Oh, a great deal better!"
"Ah, that's right.
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