Every part of the house was in such order, and every one was so attentive to me, that I had no trouble with my two bunches of keys, though what with trying to remember the contents of each little store-room drawer and cupboard; and what with making notes on a slate about jams, and pickles, and preserves, and bottles, and glass, and china, and a great many other things; and what with being generally a methodical, old-maidish sort of foolish little person, I was so busy that I could not believe it was breakfast-time when I heard the bell ring. Away I ran, however, and made tea, as I had already been installed into the responsibility of the tea-pot; and then, as they were all rather late and nobody was down yet, I thought I would take a peep at the garden and get some knowledge of that too. I found it quite a delightful place--in front, the pretty avenue and drive by which we had approached (and where, by the by, we had cut up the gravel so terribly with our wheels that I asked the gardener to roll it); at the back, the flower-garden, with my darling at her window up there, throwing it open to smile out at me, as if she would have kissed me from that distance. Beyond the flower-garden was a kitchen-garden, and then a paddock, and then a snug little rick-yard, and then a dear little farm-yard. As to the house itself, with its three peaks in the roof; its various-shaped windows, some so large, some so small, and all so pretty; its trellis-work, against the south-front for roses and honey-suckle, and its homely, comfortable, welcoming look--it was, as Ada said when she came out to meet me with her arm through that of its master, worthy of her cousin John, a bold thing to say, though he only pinched her dear cheek for it.

Every part of the house was in such order, and everyone was so attentive to me, that I had no trouble with my two bunches of keys; though what with trying to remember the contents of each store-room drawer and cupboard, and making notes about jams, pickles, and china, and a great many other things; and what with being generally a methodical, old-maidish sort of foolish little person, I was so busy that I could not believe it when breakfast-time came. Away I ran, and made tea; and then, as nobody was down yet, I thought I would take a peep at the garden.
I found it quite a delightful place - in front, the pretty avenue and drive by which we had approached (and where our wheels had cut up the gravel so terribly that I asked the gardener to roll it); at the back, the flower-garden, with my darling Ada at her window, smiling out at me. Beyond the flower-garden was a kitchen-garden, and then a paddock, and a snug little rick-yard, and a dear little farm-yard. As for the house itself, with its gables, its various-shaped windows, its trellis-work for roses and honey-suckle, and its homely, welcoming look - it was, as Ada said when she came out to meet me with Mr. Jarndyce, worthy of her cousin John; a bold thing to say, though he only pinched her cheek for it.
