It was the portrait of Grace's mother.

Another was that of a minister in gown and bands, with black-silk gloved hands holding up conspicuously a large Bible.

This was the remote ancestor, the minister.

Then there was the picture of John's father, placed lovingly where the eyes seemed always to be following the slight, white-robed figure of the young wife.

The walls were papered with an old-fashioned paper of a peculiar pattern, bought in France seventy-five years before.