So they divided the labor.
"The house looks so pretty," said Madeleine, as she and Jane went through to the kitchen. "How do you ever manage it,—with just the same things, too?"
Jane glanced about. "Why, there's a right place for everything, and if you just stand back a bit and let the things have time to think, they'll tell you where to put them. There was an old blue vase in the dining-room that was pretty weak-minded, but I was patient and carried it all over the place till finally it was suited on top of the what-not in the corner of the hall. The trouble with most things is that we hurry them too much at first, and then we don't help them out of their false position later."
"Oh, Jane, you are so delightfully quaint. You must tell Mr. Rath that. It's the kind of speech that will just charm the soul right out of an artist."
Jane was deep in the flour-bin. "But I don't want to charm his soul. I'll leave that to you."
"To me! Why, he doesn't care a rap about me."
"Well, then, to Emily Mead."
"Emily Mead! Oh, my dear, you have put a lot of new ideas into her head! She says that you told her that any one could get anything that he or she wanted."
"And so they can."
"Suppose she wants Mr. Rath?"