The little school-teacher
had never been in it before, and it impressed her. "It's
just what you would expect her parlor to be," she said
to herself, looking furtively round. She could not help
her sense of impropriety; she had always been taught that
it was very bad manners to observe anything hi another
person's house, but she could not help looking either.
She longed to get up and read the names of the books
behind the glass doors of the tall bookcase at the other
end of the room, for the sake of the little quiver of
respectful admiration she knew they would give her; but
she did not dare to do that. Her eyes went from the
bookcase to the photogravure of Dore's "Entry into
Jerusalem," under which three Japanese dolls were arranged
with charming effect. "The Reading Magdalen" caught them
next, a colored photograph, and then a Magdalen of more
obscure origin in much blackened oils and a very deep
frame; then still another Magdalen, more modern, in
monochrome. In fact, the room was full of Magdalens, and
on an easel in the corner stood a Mater Dolorosa, lifting
up her streaming eyes. Granting the capacity to take them
seriously, they might have depressed some people, but
they elevated Miss Kimpsey.
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