"It was a nursery," began Ada, softly. "Just one of those blue-and-white darlingnesses for somebody's little darling."
"For somebody's little darling," repeated Mrs. Turkletaub, silently. She had the habit, when moved, of mouthing people's words after them.
"My idea was—Oh, it's so silly to be telling it again, Mrs.
Turkletaub!"
"Silly! I think it's grand that a girl brought up to the best should want to make something of herself. Don't you, Nick?"
"H-m-m!"
"Well, my little idea was white walls with little Delft-blue borders of waddling duckies; white dotted Swiss curtains in the brace of sunny southern-exposure windows, with little Delft-blue borders of more waddling duckies; and dear little nursery rhymes painted in blue on the headboard to keep baby's dreams sweet."
"—baby's dreams sweet! I ask you, is that cute, Nick? Baby's dreams she even interior decorates."
"My—instructor liked that idea, too. He gave me 'A' on the drawing."
"He should have given you the whole alphabet. And tell him about the chairs, Ada. Such originality."
"Oh, Mrs. Turkletaub, that was just a—a little—idea—"