"Now, Katie, you behold your parent's latest and last achievement." These "last improvements" became quite a joke between them. I remember so well, on one such occasion, after the walls and doors of the drawing-room had been lined with mirrors, my sister's laughing speech to "the master": "I believe papa, that when you become an angel your wings will be made of looking-glass and your crown of scarlet geraniums."
And here I would like to correct an error concerning myself. I have been spoken of as my father's "favorite daughter." If he had a favorite daughter—and I hope and believe that the one was as dear to him as the other—my dear sister must claim that honor. I say this ungrudgingly, for during those last two years my father and I seemed to become more closely united, and I know how deep was the affectionate intimacy at the time of his death.
The "last improvement"—in truth, the very last—was the building of a conservatory
