"I foraged all over this joy-dotted earth,
To pick its best nosegay of innocent mirth,
Tied up with the bands of its wisdom and worth,--
And lo! its chief treasure,
Its innermost pleasure,
Was always at Home."
Tupper.
Scene: An old-fashioned parlour in Grayling House. The walls are hung
with faded tapestry, the furniture is ancient, and a great fire of logs
and peat is burning on the low hearth. In front lies a noble deerhound.
At one side, in a high-backed chair, sits a lady still young and
beautiful. Some lacework rests on her lap, and she listens to one who
sits near her reading--her husband.