'I like it,' said Eunice simply.
'Well, I can't stay another minute. Don't you come down to the door now. You have to put away everything. I'll just run along. Come and see me. I've got the flat all settled.'
'I shall love to, Mabel. Just a moment! You must let me go to the door with you. The Glory-Box can wait.'
Eunice found her mother standing by the bed when she came back. She was a meagre-looking woman with a thin mouth. Her eyes had once been soft and dark like Eunice's, but the glow had gone out of them, leaving them a little hard.
'I've been looking at the sack Mabel brought you. It's a nice pattern. That sort of lace looks almost like real val. What did she say to your things?'
'She said they were sweet, mother.'
'Well, I suppose they are as nice as any one could have without spending money. You didn't show her the tablecloth I gave you?'
'No, I thought I'd wait to show the linen until it was all done up.'
Her mother fingered the lace on the sack.
'I don't believe she has a much better tablecloth than that one, Eunice. Do you suppose so?'