She led them into a tiny bedroom, not much larger than a closet, but scrupulously dainty and clean, from the white spread and pillows on the bed to the fresh towels hanging on the rack above the washstand.
Here she helped the girls remove their wraps, and then they went into the adjoining room, which was a pleasant surprise, particularly to Fannie. So pretty and pleasant and homelike it appeared that, at first, it almost seemed elegant, until one had time to observe that there was not an expensive article in the room. The floor was covered with a blue and white checked matting, the chairs and rockers were simply "cane," and the only piece of upholstered furniture was the lounge. But there were some engravings, plainly framed; hanging baskets at both of the windows; a window-box of lilies-of-the-valley, just beginning to bloom, and in the other window a similar box of mignonette, which filled the whole room with its delicate fragrance.
A bright fire blazed in the grate, and the four girls felt at home more quickly than they had done at either of the two places of their previous meetings, probably because Ernestine was their only hostess, her mother not yet having returned from the store.
A late magazine lay on the table, together with a copy of that charming story, "Little Lord Fauntleroy," and Mrs. Whitney's "We Girls" and "Real Folks." Winnie could not help picking them up to see what they were, and it turned out that all of the girls except Gretta had read them, so they immediately began talking about them.
"Mamma and papa and brother Jack took turns in reading 'Fauntleroy' aloud to us when it came out in the magazine," said Winnie, "and for a day or two in each month we hardly talked of anything else."
"I liked the scene of the dinner party best, when the little lord talked to the guests, but stayed close beside the pretty lady and paid her such cunning compliments," said Fannie.
"I enjoyed reading about him in the grocery store with Mr. Hobbs," said Miriam. "I can see them now; Hobbs was so funny! My sister said he was more of a child than the little hero of the story."
"I think I liked him best when he was with his grandfather," said Ernestine; "it was lovely of him to think that wicked old man was so good."
"My mother says that every child in the land, and particularly every boy, ought to read that story, if for no other reason than to learn what it is to be a real gentleman and a real lady. She says no depths of poverty could ever have made 'Dearest' and her son anything else."
"I was just about frantic," said Fannie, "when I began to be afraid he wasn't the heir after all. It seemed horrid to think that that rough woman's son should own those fine lands and the title, and I felt almost as glad when it turned out all right as if he had been one of my nearest friends."