She walked straight over to the window and looked out.
“Not a house to be seen anywhere,” she exclaimed dismally, “whichever way you look; nothing in sight but those everlasting tree-covered hills.”
As she seemed inclined for a lengthy soliloquy, I poured out some water and indicated the soap-dish, as politely as I knew how, to Dear, who had taken off her hat and coat, and seemed almost grateful for my attentions. I noticed that Abigail had been up and had adorned the towel-horse with my finest damask towels with embroidered ends, and had got out a rare and treasured bedspread made entirely of lace, that had just been sent me as a present from Venice, and had put it over the bed in place of the old-world patchwork quilt that I infinitely prefer in the cottage; it was so much more in keeping with the surroundings.
The ample one turned with a sigh from the depressing outlook that was so deficient in motor-buses and halfpenny car rides and taxis and houses, and said, evidently striving to make the best of a bad job, “At any rate you’ve tried to make it look as nice as you can inside. Do you know, I rather like that bedspread”—as though conveying a real favour on the article in question. “It reminds me of an exquisite bedspread we have at home something like it, only ours is linen, with shamrocks on it in solid embroidery.” And she flung down her coat and other impedimenta on the top of the lace in a way that made me tremble for its safety. “It’s something like ours—don’t you think so, dear?”
Dear had her face in the soft delicious lather of the rainwater, and didn’t reply.
“But”—at this point transformation came over the black and white plaid—“I’ve only just noticed it! This is a double bed! Look, dear, it’s a DOUBLE bed! And I most distinctly said in my letter it was imperative that we have two single beds; the same room would do, I said—no need to go to the expense of two rooms—but on no account a double bed. As I can’t possibly rest unless I have the bed to myself—I’m a very light sleeper, whereas my friend sleeps rather heavily, not to say—er—sonorously, don’t you, dear?—I must simply insist that you have this bed taken down and two single ones put up in its place. Had I seen the rooms before I engaged them I shouldn’t have taken a place with such a desolate outlook; but as we’ve had the expense of coming here, I don’t mind staying if you undertake to have the beds changed; and they must both be feather beds, too. Now, can you do this?”
“I’m afraid I can’t!” I said. “But if——”
“There can be no ifs; I put everything quite clearly in my letter. I’ve got a copy of it here. I wrote——”
“My dear lady, if you will sit down in that easy-chair, we’ll make everything still clearer.” She was beginning to prance around the room.