"The plaster seems fairly good," said Mr. Blossom. "I could mend these holes with a little plaster of Paris if some obliging young lady would run with this dime to the drugstore for ten cents' worth."
"I'll go," said Mabel. "I don't think I like peeling walls."
"Mabel," said Miss Blossom, "isn't really fond of work, though I notice that she usually does her share."
Everybody helped to mend the cracks, and everybody watched with breathless interest to see the first long strip, upheld by Mr. Blossom and guided by Miss Blossom and the cottage broom, go into place.
"Wouldn't it be awful," whispered Mabel, "if it shouldn't stick?"
But it did stick, smooth and flat, and the paper was even prettier on the wall than it had been in the roll.
"A side strip next, Father, so we can see how it's going to look," pleaded Miss Blossom. "Remember, we're just children."
At five o'clock, when half of the ceiling and one side of the wall were finished, the front door was opened abruptly.
"Hi there!" said Mr. Black, putting his head in at the dining-room door. "Why don't you listen when I ring your bell? Is that dinner of mine ready? I'm losing a pound a day."
"No," said Bettie, jumping down from her perch on the sideboard, "but it will be next Friday. We're getting it ready just as fast as ever we can. We're even papering the dining-room for the occasion."