Louise stood looking about with shining eyes.
“Say, Nellie, it looks lovely here, so clean and nice. I never thought it could be done, it looked so awful! I wanted to do something, and I know mother felt fierce about not fixing his room before she left; but I just couldn’t get time.”
“Of course you couldn’t, dear!” said Cornelia, suddenly realizing how wise and brave this little sister had been. “You’ve been wonderful to do anything. Why didn’t they send for me before, Louie? Tell me, how long had you been in this house before mother was taken sick?”
“Why, only a day. She fainted, you know, trying to carry that marble bureau-top upstairs, and fell down.”
“Oh! My dear!”
The two sisters stood with their arms about each other, mingling their tears for a moment; and somehow, as she stood there, Cornelia felt as if the years melted away, the college years while she had been absent, and brought her back heart and soul to her home and her loved ones again.
“But Louie, dear, what has become of the best furniture? Did they have to rent the old house furnished? I can’t find mother’s mahogany, or the parlor things, anything but the piano.”
The color rolled up into the little girl’s face, and she dropped her eyes. “Oh, no, Nellie; they went long ago,” she said, “before we even moved to the State Street house.”
“The State Street house?”
“Why, yes, father sold the Glenside house just after you went to college. You knew that, didn’t you? And then we moved to an old yellow house down farther toward the city. But it was pulled down to make room for a factory; and I was glad, for it was horrid, and a long walk to school. And then we went to a brick row down near the factory, and it was convenient for father, but—”