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The Priestley’s House.
You have heard (in Book I) about Mr. Priestley and his students. I want, now, to tell you something about his house. He is an old friend of mine, and I went to visit him about a fortnight ago and stayed at his house fore the week-end.
His lives in very nice house. It is called “The Pines” and is about ten miles from London. There is a big garden all round it, and I went in at the garden gate and walked along the path to the front door. There is a smooth in it. I knocked at the front door.
Mr. Priestley opened it and, with a smile and some words of welcome, shook hands with me, and we went into the hall. Then Mrs. Priestly came to greet me. I said How do you do? And gave her the flowers that I had bought for her.
She said, “Oh, thank you. What beautiful roses! How kind of you to bring them! I love roses, and ours haven’t been good this year. These are lovely.” She took them away to put them in water, and Mr. Priestly and I went into the sitting-room and sat down in armchairs before the fire, for it was a rather cold day and I was very pleased to see the bright fire burning in the fireplace.
Their sitting-room is quite a big room, about 25 feet long by 15 feet wide. There was a thick carpet on the floor. One or two good water – colures hung on the floor. One or two good water-colors hung on the walls, and there was a large and very interesting oil-painting that I hadn’t seen before. There was a piano on one side of the room (both Mr. and Mrs. Priestley are fond of music, and Mrs. Priestley plays the piano beautifully). There were three or four comfortable armchairs, a radio, and three or four bookcases filled with books. On a small table near the window there were copies of The Times, Punch and some foreign newspapers and magazines. Mrs. Priestly returned with the roses in a bowl which she put on the table and a few minutes later Susan came in with tea and a very nice cake.

I had expected to see John Priestly and Margaret. I had brought a box of chocolates for her, I knew she liked chocolates, but they told me John was up at Oxford and Margaret had gone to a birthday party at the house of a friend of hers.
After we had chatted for a little time, Mrs. Priestly said, “Will you excuse me, please? I want to see about the dinner. Did you know that Lizzie had left us?”
“No, I didn’t I said.
“ Yes,” continued Mrs. Priestly,” she got a letter about a month ago to say that her sister-in-law had died, and so Lizzie has gone to keep house for her brother. That cake that we had at tea was hers she sent it to me yesterday. Since she left, I have done the cooking and backed the cakes, but mine are never as good as hers.”
“Nonsense, my dear I don’t think Lizzies cakes were any better than yours, “said Mr. Priestly, loyally.
“Take no notice of Charles” said Mrs. Priestly with a smile. “They say love is blind; it seems to me he can’t taste, either. My husbands ideas about grammar are, I am sure, better than mine, but when it’s a question if ideas cakes, mine are far better than his.”
She went out, and Mr. Priestly said, “Its bad luck about Lizzie isn’t it? I am afraid Susan will go, too, before long. A young fellow near here, Joe Marsden, has asked her to merry him. He is trying to buy a café in the High Street. The café is not his yet, but I think hells get it, and when it is his, I’m pretty sure Susan will marry him and go to help him to run the café. It will make things difficult for my wife. Ours is quit a big house for one woman to run, and it’s almost impossible, nowadays, to get help in the house.”
After a little time Mrs. Priestly joined us again and said ,”Dinner is ready,” so we went to the dining-room, a pleasant-looking- room with a Persian carpet on the floor, a dark oak dining-table, six chairs and a sideboard. A red lampshade gave a warm color to the room, and an electric fire kept comfortable while we had diner. Susan drew the brown velvet curtains across the windows as it was now quite dark outside, and we set down to dinner, a very English one roast beef and Yorkshire pudding, roast potatoes, and cabbage grown in their own garden, followed by apple-pie with thick cream and sugar. When we had finished dinner, Susan took the from the dining-room to the kitchen, and Mr. Priestley went with her to make coffee. Mr. Priestley took mi to his study for a quiet smoke and to show me some to his books. After a quarter of an hour or so, Mr. Priestley came to tell us she had made the coffee and it was in the string-room .So we went there to take coffee and talk together and listen to the news on the radio. Then Mr. Priestley played some Chopin, my favorite composer for the piano. It was now eleven o’clock and I was feeling rather tired. Mr. Priestley saw this and said, you have had a tiring day and you look sleepy; come along upstairs to your bedroom.
Upstairs there are five bedrooms, a bathroom and a lavatory. We went to my room and he said, here you are. There is running water in your room and you can wash there or go to the bathroom, whichever you prefer. You will find soap in the soap-dish, and here are your towels. Put on the electric fire and warm your pajamas before putting them on. There are sheets and three blankets on your bed, and my wife has put a hot-water bottle in it, but if you are not warm enough there is an eiderdown here. Now, do you want anything else?
I said, “Oh, no, thank you. I shall be very comfortable,”He added, “We have breakfast rather early about a quarter past eight but you can, of course, come down later if you like and have breakfast then.
I said, “I will come down and have breakfast with you.”
“All right,’’ he said ; “I’ll bring you cup of tea at half past seven; that will give you time to get properly awake, shave and have a bath before breakfast if you feel like it. It will be all right if you take a bath about a quarter to eight. I have mine at seven, and my wife and Margaret take theirs in the evening.”
“Splendid,” I said; “thank you very mach. Good night.”
John Priestley is at Oxford University. He has two rooms, a sitting-room and a bedroom. His sitting-room is a pleasant one. There is a thick carpet on the floor and one or two water-colors and black and whit drawings hang on the walls. Near the door is a bookcase filled with books, and by the window is a table at which John works. On it are some books and copies of University magazines. John is not working now; he is making coffee. A friend is coming to his rooms for a chat. On plate are some cakes which Mrs. Priestley has baked.
John goes to the window and looks at the smooth lawns and roses and the old, grey walls. It is getting dark so he draws the curtains and puts on the light. It has a red lampshade which gives a warm color to the room. A fire is burning brightly in the fireplace.
John hears a knock at the door. His friend has come.WaW.BlogUpp.$10