“So’m I,” said both the others, and they finished up their decorating in short order.
“Sarah,” called Marjorie, at last, to the good-natured and long-suffering waitress, “won’t you please come and clear away this mess; we’ve finished our work.”
“For goodness’ sake, Miss Marjorie!” exclaimed Sarah, as she saw the guest room; “now, why did you do this? Your mother told me to put this room tidy for the lady, and I did, and now you’ve gone and cluttered it all up.”
“You’re mistaken, Sarah,” said King. “We’ve decorated it in honor of the lady that’s coming. Now, you just take away the stuff on the floor, and sweep up a bit, and straighten the chairs, and smooth over the bed, and the room will look lovely.”
“And perhaps you’d better put on fresh pillow-shams,” added Marjorie; “somehow those got all crumpled. And we broke the lampshade. Can’t you get one out of Mother’s room to replace it?”
“Oh, yes,” said Sarah, half laughing, half grumbling; “of course I can do the room all over. It needs a thorough cleaning after all this mess.”
“Well, thorough-clean it, then,” said Marjorie, patting Sarah’s arm. “But don’t touch our decorations! They’re to assure the lady of our welcome.”
“I’ll not touch ’em, Miss Marjorie; but any lady’d get the nightmare to sleep in such a jungle as this.”
“It is like a jungle, isn’t it?” said King. “I didn’t think of that before. Maybe Miss Larkin will think we mean she’s a wild beast.”
“No,” said Kitty, with her usual air of settling a question. “It’s lovely, all of it. You just tidy up, Sarah, and it will be all right, and Miss Larkin will adore it. Is luncheon ready?”