There was neatness, and even a taste for the picturesque, to be seen in the few details of the long low room.
The meal was a culinary success.

But more, it was a social triumph--chiefly, I think, owing to the rare tact of Miggles in guiding the conversation, asking all the questions herself, yet bearing throughout a frankness that rejected the idea of any concealment on her own part, so that we talked of ourselves, of our prospects, of the journey, of the weather, of each other--of everything but our host and hostess.

It must be confessed that Miggles's conversation was never elegant, rarely grammatical, and that at times she employed expletives the use of which had generally been yielded to our sex.

But they were delivered with such a lighting-up of teeth and eyes, and were usually followed by a laugh--a laugh peculiar to Miggles--so frank and honest that it seemed to clear the moral atmosphere.
Once during the meal we heard a noise like the rubbing of a heavy body against the outer walls of the house.

This was shortly followed by a scratching and sniffling at the door.