Over a low wicker sewing-chair, she did linger longingly; it would look so nice beside one of the west windows. She meant to place a low table for books and work between those side windows. In the end, prudence won the day, and surely, the new paper and matting were enough to be grateful for in themselves.
By the next afternoon the paper was on and the matting down. Pauline was up garret rummaging, when she heard someone calling her from the foot of the stairs. "I'm here, Josie," she called back, and her friend came running up.
"What are you doing?" she asked.
Pauline held up an armful of old-fashioned chintz.
"Oh, how pretty!" Josie exclaimed. "It makes one think of high-waisted dresses, and minuets and things like that."
Pauline laughed. "They were my great-grandmother's bed curtains."
"Goodness! What are you going to do with them?"
"I'm not sure mother will let me do anything. I came across them just now in looking for some green silk she said I might have to cover Hilary's pin-cushion with."
"For the new room? Patience has been doing the honors of the new paper and matting—it's going to be lovely, I think."
Pauline scrambled to her feet, shaking out the chintz: "If only mother would—it's pink and green—let's go ask her."