"Tom, you are the most consoling mortal," interrupted Cornelia Mary. "We completely forgot about the furniture."
"Jake didn't, though; he knew that as long as the Mulvaneys had fresh paint they'd be all right. Now, who'll give the paint? Corny, you ought to do it, because think of the salary you'll earn teaching that school."
"Hold on, young man," said Mr. Randall, "Jake's idea is good, and I'll donate all the paint he'll put on."
"Father has a lot left from painting the barn," Cornelia Mary whispered to Mrs. Brown.
"They may have our old kitchen stove, too," added Mrs. Randall. "It's a nice little stove, but we've had no use for it since we bought the range, and it's in the woodshed covered with rust. I should be glad to get it out of the way."
Without warning Tom stood on his head and waved his feet in the air.
"Tom Randall, what possesses you?" asked his mother, giving the pillows on the sitting-room couch a vigorous shake.
"I wish to speak in meeting," explained Tom. "It's no circus performance. Cheer up, Corny, I'll teach the Mulvaneys how to raise their feet instead of their hands when they have to ask questions in school."
"I'll give you a new lesson in shingling if you try it," observed his father, laughing with the rest of the family at the change of expression on Tom's face.
"I was about to make a suggestion," Tom continued. "Now don't giggle, Corny and Sally, I'm serious. I say let's go furniture-hunting all through the country."