ingle-chair

Updated: May 1, 2025

When I got back he looked as though he had been born and bred in the steading. He sat in the big wooden-armed ingle-chair, with the black cat on his knee. His arms were out, and he held a skein of worsted from hand to hand which my mother was busily rolling into a ball. Cousin Edie was sitting near, and I could see by her eyes that she had been crying. "Hullo, Edie!" said I, "what's the trouble?"

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle - The Great Shadow and Other Napoleonic Tales