"Magenta and scarlet," she said; "it sounds dreadful!"
"But you know nothing of colours, Hilda!"
"No, but my dressmaker does. And she said that magenta and scarlet were ugly. I can't imagine them myself. She saw the drawing-room, and I merely re-echoed her opinion. What is scarlet like, Janet?"
"It is a bright red."
"But what is red like?"
Janet was puzzled. She did not know how to describe the colour to one who had no conception of tint. "Red is--red," she said at length. "I can say no more. Let us go into the dining-room, Hilda."
The salon proved to be less glaring than the drawing-room, being papered and curtained and upholstered in dark green. The windows were few and filled with stained glass, so that the general effect was gloomy. In spite of her blindness, Hilda felt this.
"I don't like this room, it is dark," she said abruptly. "Come away, Janet."
"How do you know it is dark?" questioned Janet, as they went out.
"I cannot say. I feel happy in my own sitting-room, because I know it is bright; but here I feel wretched. I can give you no reason. But is it not curious, Janet? I can always tell dark stuff from light. I get a pain in my fingers when I touch anything black."