“What a pretty room it is!” said Jim; “why don’t you live in it?”
“Because it would wear out the carpet, and it is more comfortable in the sitting-room;” answered Mrs. Martin. Then she showed him a few books, boxes, and other works of art which were spread out on the big round table, and Jim admired everything.
Among Mrs. Martin’s treasures, there was a brown morocco “Keepsake,” containing a pair of scissors, a silver thimble, and a needle-case. It had belonged to Mrs. Martin’s little daughter who had died several years before, and when Mrs. Martin went into the best-room on Sunday afternoons she always opened the “Keepsake,” and thought of the little hands that had played with it, long ago. And now as a reward of merit, she showed it to Jim.
“It is the prettiest thing I ever saw!” said Jim; “when I am rich I will give Nellie Turner one just like it.”
“She will have to wait some time, I guess,” said Mrs. Martin, laughing.
Then they looked at the pictures of George Washington shaking hands with nobody, and of his wife, looking very sweet and handsome.
“You are so great at stringing up things, Jimmy,” said Mrs. Martin with a funny look, “I want you to hang up these pictures for me, will you?”
“I will,” said Jim, blushing a little as he thought of his string of apples; “I will do it next Saturday.”
Jim kept his promise. The pictures were hung in the best light and made the room look so much prettier, that even Spot, who had been a silent observer, could keep still no longer, and barked his approbation. Then the blinds and windows were closed, the door locked, and the best-room was left to quiet and darkness.
The next day being Sunday, Mrs. Martin paid her usual afternoon visit to the best-room. She admired the pictures a little while, then she went to the round table to take up the Keepsake; but the Keepsake was not there.