"What a lovely, cool-looking room!" she cried, and dropped her coat
and umbrella upon the bed.
The Lad, following with her handbag, stopped to look at his tennis shoes
before he set foot upon the white rug, and dusted off the bag with a
somewhat grimy handkerchief before he stood it on the white-tiled
hearth. The Lad knows how I feel about the room, and though he races
into his own with muddy feet, stands in awe of the place where only
girls are made at home.
* * * * *
I have but two maid-servants, both of whom must be busy in kitchen and
dining-room when the house is full of guests. So I always make the
rounds of the bedrooms in the evening, to see to lights and water, and
to turn down the coverings on the beds. The Skeptic's room needed only a
touch here and there to put it in order for the night. The Philosopher's
needed none. The Gay Lady had left her pretty, rose-hung quarters
looking as if a lady lived in them, and had but dropped a dainty
reminder of herself here and there to give them character--an
embroidered dressing-case on the bureau, an attractive travelling
work-box on the table by her bed, a photograph, a lace-bordered
handkerchief, a gossamer scarf on a chair-back ready for use if she
should need it for a stroll in the moonlight with the Skeptic.
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