248 IN "THE SNUGGERY" 



It was a regular " sleepy hollow " of a place 

 that summer. We went to bed when it grew 

 too dark to see the ocean and sitting on the 

 piazza ceased to be interesting, and we did 

 not stir to take up the burden of life 

 till the sun was far on his daily rounds. We 

 trained the morning callers grocers and 

 their ilk not to come to us on their early 

 rounds, and sometimes not a sign of life was 

 to be seen or heard about our "enchanted 

 castle " before a very late hour indeed. If 

 one of the trio did bestir herself earlier, she 

 respected the quiet of her housemates, and 

 having her own private exit, and making her 

 own morning coffee in her own room, had no 

 need to interfere with any one. 



It was not always sleep that held us inact- 

 ive. Never before in our busy lives I 

 speak for one of the three had we been 

 able to rest in the morning with no breakfast- 

 call, postman, door-bell, or even reproachful 

 looks to drag us up before the " spirit moved.' ' 

 It was not laziness it was re-creative rest. 



" Yes, I know," said an islander making 

 a piazza-call one day, ostensibly to inquire 

 about some work, but probably to see for 



