It was shaped， of course， like an attic， but furnished as a sitting.room. Every bit of the walls was lined with shelves and every bit of the shelves was full of books. A fire was burning in the grate （you remember that it was a very cold wet summer that year） and in front of the fireplace with its back towards them was a high.backed armchair. Between the chair and Polly， and filling most of the middle of the room， was a big table piled with all sorts of things.printed books， and books of the sort you write in， and ink bottles and pens and sealing.wax and a microscope. But what she noticed first was a bright red wooden tray with a number of rings on it. They were in pairs.a yellow one and a green one together， then a little space， and then another yellow one and another green one. They were no bigger than ordinary rings， and no one could help noticing them because they were so bright. They were the most beautiful shiny little things you can imagine. If Polly had been a very little younger she would have wanted to put one in her mouth.
