Hopalong threw open the door that led from the kitchen to the cellar stairs, and holding up their dainty white skirts, Patty and Nan started down the rather dark staircase.
“Look at those white shoes coming downstairs,” they heard Bumble’s voice cry; “I do believe it’s Nan and Patty!”
“It certainly is,” said Patty, and as she reached the last step, she looked around in astonishment, and then burst into laughter.
“Well, you do beat all!” she said, “We’ve been sitting on the front verandah half an hour, wondering where you could be.”
“Isn’t it nice?” said Mrs. Barlow, after she had greeted her guests.
“It is indeed,” said Patty, “it’s the greatest scheme I ever heard of.”
The cellar, which had been recently white-washed, had been converted into a funny sort of a sitting-room. On the floor was spread a large white floor-cloth, whose original use had been for a dancing crash.
The chairs and sofas were all of wicker, and though in various stages of dilapidation, were cool and comfortable. A table in the center was covered with a white cloth, and the sofa pillows were in white ruffled cases.
Bumble explained that the intent was to have everything white, but they hadn’t been able to carry out that idea fully, as they had so few white things.
“The cat is all right,” said Patty, looking at a large white cat that lay curled up on a white fur rug.