CHAPTER XI
The children found out at once that Carey had gone with Brand, and a gloom settled over the little household. Cornelia had no trouble in keeping them out of the parlor; they did not want to go in. Even Harry seemed oppressed, and broke out every few minutes while he ate his supper with, “Aw, gee! If I was a fella!”
Cornelia suddenly roused to break the gloom that had fallen upon them. She looked at her younger brother with a cheery smile.
“Well you will be some day. You are already, you know, really.”
Harry looked up proudly, and met her appreciation with a glow.
“I think,” said Cornelia thoughtfully, “that this would be a nice night to clean the kitchen, if you all could help.”
“Clean the kitchen!” They looked up unenthusiastically. “Why, I thought you cleaned that the first day. It looked awfully nice,” said Louise. Somehow kitchens seemed uninteresting places.
“Oh, but not really clean,” said Cornelia, taking a deep breath and trying to get courage for the evening, for she was already weary enough to rest; but she must do something to take the family mind off Carey and that locked parlor door if she wanted her plans to succeed.
“I want to paint it all white, walls and ceiling and woodwork; and then I want to paint the floor gray, and put that waterproof varnish on it so it will wash up easily. Those boards are very hard to keep clean the way they are and show every grease-spot. Did you ever paint Harry?”
“Oh sure. I painted the porch down to the grocery, and the hen-house, and all around the window-sills for Mrs. Brannon. I can paint. Got any brushes?”