Across the hall from the drawing-room was the music-room, all furnished in blue upholstered satin, and containing two pianos, a grand and an upright. Potted plants of the paper variety bloomed in the windows and a wee violin in a polished case lay atop of the music cabinet.
Sally had destined this apartment to be a living-room and music-room in one, and finally added a porch swing that hung in a frame and teetered delightfully when a doll sat in it; a couple of parrots in a gilt cage; and Bedelia’s workstand. The effect was somewhat incongruous, especially in connection with blue satin chairs and sofas, while Bob remarked, quite gratuitously, that when once the parrots got started nobody could ever hear either the violin or pianos. However, as Sally was the only one to be pleased, no one took any notice of this remark.
With regret Sally turned from the bright little music-room, but was presently just as deeply engrossed with the library. Here was a peach of a room, to use her own expression—a room all furnished and upholstered in green, with sleepy hollow chairs and a roll-top desk in one corner. Around the walls ran shelves filled with tiny books, and a wee telephone hung in one angle of the wall, near the desk. At one end of the room was a big fireplace, over which rose a high mantel-shelf, and a grandfather’s clock ticked, metaphorically speaking, in the corner.
Sally had desired that her library should be “restful” and to that end had worked out the scheme of furnishings on a somewhat subdued scale. However, she succeeded admirably in carrying out her design, an end which few grown-ups ever attain. Never was there a more charming haven of rest to which a doll might fly for refuge from the turmoil without than this dim, shadowy room, with its deep lounging chairs and bewitching tea-table drawn up at one side of the fire.
There was a tiny smoker’s set, too, ranged on an oriental looking tabouret, a collection of tiny brass articles that would have delighted the soul of any lover of the weed. Want of space had compelled Sally to unite library and den, but the union of the two made a much more charming room than either one could ever have hoped to attain to by itself.
Bob had contributed to the library a distracting pipe rack, fashioned from the bits of a cigarbox and cunningly cut out with his jig-saw, an article whose usefulness promised to be unlimited as far as a doll’s house was concerned. The rack was hung with tiny pipes picked up at one of the ten-cent stores at ten cents per dozen. Bob was proud of his handiwork and Sally considered it one of her chief treasures because Bob had made it.
On the third floor were the bed-rooms and bath-room. The bed-rooms, fascinatingly furnished with dainty patterns of cretonne, with fine brass beds, and ruffled curtains at the windows, were places of rest and delight. One of them was arranged for a nursery and contained two cunning little white enameled cribs. There was also, in this room, a most intricate folding bed for the nurse.
The bath-room was most elaborately appointed with shower and needle baths, as well as a fine, white enameled tub and a complicated system of plumbing. By means of this real water ran from a tank over the tub and furnished forth a liberal supply for the ablutions of all the dollies. To be sure, one was obliged to be very careful not to allow the tub to run over, for an overflow meant ruin and rout to ceilings below stairs.