"For Casey to do?" she said.
He poured his coffee into his saucer and answered with a heavy effort at speaking unconcernedly.
"I'm agoin' to hev him fix the house," he said.
She was going to ask him what he meant to have done, but he did not give her time.
"Ianthy an' me," he said, "we'd useder say we'd do it sometime, an' I'm agoin' to do it now. The rooms, now, they're low—whar they're not to say small, they're low an'—an' old-timey. Thar aint no style to 'em. Them rooms to the Springs, now, they've got style to 'em. An' rooms kin be altered easy enough."
He drank his coffee slowly, set his saucer down and went on with the same serious air of having broached an ordinary subject.
"Goin' to the Springs has sorter started me off," he said. "Seein' things diff'rent does start a man off. Casey an' his men'll be here Monday."
"It seems so—sudden," Louisiana said. She gave a slow, wondering glance at the old smoke-stained room. "I can hardly fancy it looking any other way than this. It wont be the same place at all."
He glanced around, too, with a start. His glance was hurried and nervous.
"Why, no," he said, "it wont, but—it'll be stylisher. It'll be kinder onfamil'ar at first, but I dessay we shall get used to it—an' it'll be stylisher. An' style—whar thar's young folks, thet's what's wanted—style."