It was the distinctive quality of all the wall-papers that nothing looked well against them, and the cheap reproductions in gilt frames, the religious prints, the photographs (groups of the Rev.
Paul at Cambridge, at St.Ermand's Theological College, with the Skeaton Band of Hope) were all equally forlorn and out of place.
It was evident that everything in the house was arranged and intended to stay for ever where it was, the chairs against the walls, the ornaments on the mantelpieces, the photograph-frames, the plush mats, the bright red pots with ferns, the long blue vases, and yet the impression was not one of discipline and order.Aunt Anne's house had been untidy, but it had had an odd life and atmosphere of its own.This house was dead, utterly and completely dead.The windows of the dining-room looked out on to a lawn and round the lawn was a stone wall with broken glass to protect it."As though there were anything to steal!" thought Maggie.But then you cannot expect a garden to look its best at the beginning of April."I'll wait a little," thought Maggie."And then I'll make this house better.I'll destroy almost everything in it."About mid-day with rather a quaking heart Maggie penetrated the kitchen.Here were gathered together Alice the cook, Emily the housemaid, and Clara the between maid.
Alice was large, florid, and genial.Nevertheless at once Maggie distrusted her.No servant had any right to appear so wildly delighted to see a new mistress.Alice had doubtless her own plans.