It's some years (the fifties) since Miss Bolton's earlier novels (Do I Wake or Sleep, The Christmas Tree) and this one, not much more than a wisp of organdy, hardly qualifies as more than a book-length description. It's an eclogue in house and garden prose; bobolinks and butterflies and syringa outdoors; damask and silverware indoors, and the time is the 19th century, the place a small New England town. Mary, who with her twin Grace, is the youngest of five orphaned children, tells the story but the ""I"" is a dual ""we"" throughout since the kinship of twinship is the central intention of the memoir. It begins with their grandmother's death, ends with Grace's, and in between fills in their life on Maple Street or visits to relatives or summer vistas of the beach, the farm, the meadow..... Somehow it's hard to think that Mary/Grace, Grace/Mary is/are communicating to present day readers.