They took the rooms one at a time, and furnished them, Allison joining them, and taking as much interest in the design of the furniture as if he had been a young bridegroom just setting up housekeeping for himself.
They had set aside a certain sum for each room so that they would not overstep their guardian’s limit, and with Julia Cloud to put on the brakes, and suggest simplicity, and decide what was in good taste for such a small village house, they easily came within the generous limit allowed them.
It was a great game for Julia Cloud to come out of her simple country life and plunge into this wholesale beautiful buying untroubled by a continual feeling that she must select the very cheapest without regard to taste or desire. It was wonderful; but it was wearying in spite of the delight, and so the little house was not all furnished in a day.
“Well, the living-room’s done, anyway, and the willow set for the porch room!” sighed Leslie, leaning back with a fling of weariness. “Now to-morrow we’ll do the dining-room.”
“To-morrow’s Sunday, Les; the stores aren’t open. Use your bean a little, child.”
“Sunday!”
Leslie’s beautiful face drew itself into a snarl of impatience, the first, really, that Julia Cloud had seen.
“Oh, darn!” said Leslie’s pretty lips. “Isn’t that too horrid? I forgot all about it. I wonder what they have to have Sunday for, anyway. It’s just a dull old bore!”
“O Leslie, darling!” said Julia Cloud, aghast, something in her heart growing suddenly heavy and sinking her down, down, so that she felt as if she could hardly hold her head up another minute.