" She led the way along the hall to the spare room,
throwing the door wide open.
"Oh!" Hilary cried, then stood quite still on the threshold, looking
about her with wide, wondering eyes.
The spare room was grim and gray no longer. Hilary felt as if she must
be in some strange, delightful dream. The cool green of the wall
paper, with the soft touch of pink in ceiling and border, the fresh
white matting, the cozy corner opposite--with its delicate
old-fashioned chintz drapery and big cushions, the new toilet
covers--white over green, the fresh curtains at the windows, the
cushioned window seats, the low table and sewing-chair, even her own
narrow white bed, with its new ruffled spread, all went to make a room
as strange to her, as it was charming and unexpected.
"Oh," she said again, turning to her mother, who had followed them
up-stairs, and stood waiting just outside the door. "How perfectly
lovely it all is--but it isn't for me?"
"Of course it is," Patience said. "Aren't you company--you aren't just
Hilary now, you're 'Miss Shaw' and you're here on a visit; and there's
company asked to supper to-morrow night, and it's going to be such fun!"
Hilary's color came and went.
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