“It will be a very small range,” Anthony said. “A little toy stove would be more practical for our—the kitchen. How big is it, Juliet?”
“‘Ten by fourteen,’” read Juliet. “From the centre of the room you can hit all the side walls with the broom. Speaking of walls, Tony—those must be our first consideration. If we get our colour scheme right everything else will follow. I have it all in my head.”
So it proved. But it also proved, when they had been hard at work for an hour at a well-known decorator’s, that the tints and designs for which Miss Marcy asked were not readily to be found in the low-priced wall-papers to which Anthony rigidly held her.
“I must have the softest, most restful greens for the living-room,” she announced. “There—that——”
“But that is a dollar a roll,” whispered Anthony.
“Then—that!”
“Eighty-five cents.”
“But for that little room, Tony——”
“Twenty-five cents a roll is all we can allow,” insisted Anthony firmly. “And less than that everywhere else.”
The salesman was very obliging, and showed the best things possible for the money. It was impossible to resist the appeal in the eyes of this critical but restricted young buyer.