The Cabot farm-house in New England in the year 1850. Two enormous elms are on each side of the house. They bend their trailing branches down over the roof. They appear to protect and at the same time subdue; there is a sinister maternity in their aspect, a crushing, jealous absorption. When the wind does not keep them astir, they develop, from their intimate contact with the life of the man in the house, an appalling humaneness. They brood oppressively over the house… and when it rains, their tears trickle down monotonously and rot the shingles.