"Goodness, how that makes everything look!" cried Bea, in sudden dismay.
"But it doesn't shine at night," said Kat, consolingly. "Bless me! how the back of the big chair is worn! what shall we do?"
"Make a big tidy out of darning-cotton," answered Kittie. "That's pretty and cheap, and I know a lovely stitch, and can put long fringe on."
"Capital idea!" assented Kat, with an approving nod.
"We'll have to bring something in out of the sitting-room," said Bea, pushing the chairs around, with a view to making one fill the space required by two. "There's so much room, and it makes things look so skimpy."
"Don't have everything pushed back so," advised Kittie, giving a twitch here and a pull there, that brought things to more social angles, and left less space. "See that fills out some, and in that corner we can put the wire rack and fill it with flowers and vines."
"But the rack is so rusty," said Bea, only half relieved.
"There's some green paint in the woodshed, and I'll touch it up," said Kittie, becoming thoroughly interested. "We can make a lovely corner-piece out of it; there's all those limestones down in the yard, and some of them are such pretty shapes, that will look lovely set in moss, with vines going over them. We can hang the baskets in the windows, and when the curtains are fresh and clean, it will look so pretty."
"Hurrah for my better half," cried Kat, with a flourish of her hat. "It's bliss to hear you talk. Your words are like wisdom and—butter-scotch."
"What's in the wind?" asked an interested voice from the window. "And what's all this I hear about limestones and butter-scotch and wisdom?"