Still, so far, no heavy blow had been dealt, and this part of the coast had not even felt the shock of the wave.  On the banks of the Piscataqua mirth and feasting might go on, at least for a time.  The Colonel looked about him again at the fine pictures on the walls, at the rich furniture fantastically carved, at his pretty youngest daughter, a girl of twelve, as she sat at the spinnet going over some music that somebody might ask her to play; perhaps it would be Lady Dacre herself whom she had seen once and greatly admired.  When a moment later Madam Archdale came into the room he looked at her face and figure, still handsome and graceful.  Her flowing brocade was of a becoming color, and nothing richer, that he knew of, had been worn in the Colonies.  He felt a faint anxiety, which Sir Temple would have set down as provincial, to see the attitude of the English guests, for he flattered himself that he could do the honors of a mansion better than Stephen whose perfect simplicity annoyed his father when it let slip opportunities to make a fine impression.  With Stephen and Madam Archdale, who certainly did very well, the Colonel had no doubt that Sir Temple and Lady Dacre had taken everything they found as a matter of course, and had not looked for quite the sort of thing that they were accustomed to at home.  But here he thought that they would be a little surprised, that it would be to them England over again, and for a few hours they would fancy themselves in some old mansion there.  He felt that to hear them say this would make his cup of satisfaction brim over, and this in some unintentional way he expected to draw from them.

“It’s very warm,” said his wife panting a little, “and, after all, I need not have hurried; nobody has come yet, or will come this half-hour, I dare say.”

“Stephen is always prompt,” suggested the Colonel, pausing in his measured walk to glance down the road.

“Yes, but then there are the English people.  To be sure, they fall into our ways as if they had been born here, and Lady Dacre is as easy as an old shoe.”

“My dear,” said her husband, “I hope that is not the phraseology you are going to indulge in before our guests.”  Madam Archdale laughed.

“It would not shock them half as much as it does you,” she answered.  “I heard Sir Temple say the very thing the other day, and you would think of it yourself if you had on a pair of new slippers, as I have.”  The Colonel waived discussion, and took up another part of her answer.

“You say they fall into our ways as if they had been born here,” he began.  “Doesn’t it occur to you that they may find them perfectly natural?”