There was not much choice to be had, and the only green and
white there was, was considerably beyond the limit they had allowed
themselves.
"Never mind," Pauline said cheerfully, "plain white will look ever so
cool and pretty--perhaps, the green would fade. I'm going to believe
so."
Over a low wicker sewing-chair, she did linger longingly; it would look
so nice beside one of the west windows. She meant to place a low table
for books and work between those side windows. In the end, prudence
won the day, and surely, the new paper and matting were enough to be
grateful for in themselves.
By the next afternoon the paper was on and the matting down. Pauline
was up garret rummaging, when she heard someone calling her from the
foot of the stairs. "I'm here, Josie," she called back, and her friend
came running up.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
Pauline held up an armful of old-fashioned chintz.
"Oh, how pretty!" Josie exclaimed. "It makes one think of high-waisted
dresses, and minuets and things like that."
Pauline laughed. "They were my great-grandmother's bed curtains."
"Goodness! What are you going to do with them?"
"I'm not sure mother will let me do anything.
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