The
closet door, ajar, gave a glimpse of summer frocks, hanging in order on
padded hangers brought in a trunk; beneath, a row of incredibly small,
smart shoes stood awaiting their turn. Even the Gay Lady's trunk was
clad in a trim, beflowered cover of linen, and looked a part of the
place. I smiled to myself as I turned down the white sheets over my best
down-filled quilt of pale pink, and thought of the Gay Lady's delightful
custom of keeping her room swept and dusted without letting anybody know
when she did it.
* * * * *
I felt my way across Althea's room to light the lamp--there are no
electrics in my old country home. As I went in I stumbled over a rug
whose corner had been drawn into a bunch by the edge of a trunk which
had been pulled too far toward the middle of the room. I encountered
a chair hung full with clothing; I pushed what felt like a shoe out
of my path.
It took some time for me to find the match-box, which ordinarily
stands on a corner of the dressing-table.
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