“ ’Course we divide the mantel, same’s everything else,” observed Dolly, as she came, with a tiny ivory elephant and a larger teakwood one. “Let’s put Bert’s clock in the middle, and then each fix our own half. I’ve just got to have my two dearie efelunts here, and the brass candlestick Grandma gave me. There, I think that’s enough for my end.”
“Looks awful skinny. I’ve a lot of stuff for my half. See; this pair of vases, and this plaster cast of Dante, and this big white china cat, and this inkstand—”
“Oh, Dot, don’t put an inkstand up there! Put that on your desk.”
“Oh, it isn’t a using inkstand. It’s just a show one. Aunt Clara gave it to me last Christmas. See, it’s iridescent glass.”
“I know it is, but it looks like fury up there, and your end is too crowded, anyway.”
“Pooh, I think yours is too skimpy. Looks awful vacant, with nothing but two elephants and a candlestick!”
“But it’s right not to have such a lot of dinky doodaddles all over the place. Your end looks like a junk shop!”
But, imperturbably, Dotty added a big, pink-lined conch shell and a fussy beribboned calendar. “I like what I like, Dolly Fayre, and I’ve as much right to fill up my space as you have to waste yours. You might rent out a few square feet to me.”
“ ’Deed I won’t! Dot, that bunch of rubbish is fierce! All the girls will laugh at it.”
“Let ’em, I don’t care. I’ve had that shell ever since I was a tiny mite. It’s my oldest treasure.”