"Yes!" exclaimed Kathie, with a touch of enthusiasm.
"Isn't it lovely?—just as if it was cut out of white wax. I like to go rambling round to find all manner of odd things; but I never thought of putting them up anywhere, or making frames. O, come see mine!"
Both girls rose, and Kathie really took her first survey of the parlor. There was a dull-colored ingrain carpet on the floor, the flowers of which ran all over it; a square, stiff-backed sofa, studded with brass nails; some rush-bottomed chairs, two old family portraits, and a pair of high brass candlesticks on the mantelpiece.
But above this Sarah had hung her two pictures, and put up the lichen brackets.
"I couldn't make my frame as pretty as yours," she said; "and I broke ever so many straws."
"But you succeeded very well, I think."
"And I made this. I took the picture out of a book."
It was a moss frame, very neatly manufactured, but the picture was a rather coarsely colored fashion-plate.
"I do love pictures so! I wish I had a whole houseful! And if I could only make 'em myself,—them, I mean," coloring, and correcting her speech.