'Precisely what I do, and am not thankful. What our paper may have been in its earlier stages of existence, I am not prepared to say; but since I can remember, that hateful thing, the pattern, could only be traced by curious researches in dark corners, and the wall presented every nuance of purplish salmon or warm apricot.'
'Dear old paper!' cried Cherry. 'Yes; wasn't it soft, deepening off in clouds and bars, sunsets and storm-clouds, to make stories about?'
'Where it was most faded and grimy,' said Wilmet. 'It is all affectation not to be glad to have clean walls.'
'Clean!' cried Edgar, in horror. 'Defend me from the clean! Bare, bald, and frigid, with hard lines breaking up and frittering your background. If walls are ornamented at all, it should not be in a poor material like paper, but rich silk or woollen tapestry hangings.'
'We couldn't have tapestry now,' said Alice, in a puzzled voice.
'Then,
'"Comrades, take warning by my fall,
And have it strong or not at all."'
'Not walls,' laughed Cherry.
'Let them be of natural, or, at any rate, uniform tint; and cover them with your own designs of some character and purpose, not patterns bought by the yard.'
'Oh! I see what you would be at,' said Wilmet quaintly. 'You are bewailing the loss of your great Man Friday.'