"Because the arms are covered with velvet," Val answered, without thinking, and then shot a shy look at Ethan.
"Velvet? Of course. What then?"
Val looked in her lap and said, mendaciously:
"I don't like velvet arms. Please let the doilies stay."
Mrs. Gano was satisfied in her own mind that Val was ashamed of the condition of the ancient covering. The difficulty plainly was that it had been velvet. She forbore to pursue the question before her grandson.
The days went on; Ethan refused to count them.
One late afternoon a deluge of rain brought down a part of the ceiling in the old red room that had been John Gano's. Ethan took his courage in both hands, and described to Mrs. Gano, in forcible terms, the extent of the damage and the danger of leaving the roof as it was.
"I don't propose to leave it as it is."
He studied her.
"Do you remember telling me when I was a little chap that this was my home?"