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As things go in San Francisco, they were
old-fashioned. They had family traditions and usages and time-worn
customs. Their library had been in process of collection for the past
half century and the pictures on the walls were oil paintings of steel
engravings and genuine old-fashioned chromos, beyond price to-day.
Their furniture and ornaments were of the preceding generation, solid,
conservative. They were not chosen with reference to any one style, nor
all bought at the same time. Each separate piece had an individuality of
its own. The Ravises kept their old things, long after the fashion had
gone out, preferring them to the smarter "art" objects on account of
their associations.
There were six in the family, Mr. and Mrs. Ravis, Turner, and her older
brother, Stanley, Yale '88, a very serious young gentleman of
twenty-seven, continually professing an interest in economics and
finance. Besides these were the two children, Howard, nine years old,
and his sister, aged fourteen, who had been christened Virginia.
They were a home-loving race. Mr.


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