"Then you don't insist on a decorator?"
"No!"
A sigh of relief, and she settled back comfortably.
"I'm so glad! Just think of that absurd man, actually intending to tear out all those beautiful old panels! Reese, I'm going to spend some money, but in three weeks we'll have a home—a real home, too! It was good of you to wait and let me do it, instead of trying to surprise me with everything done."
"Go ahead, the sky's the limit," said Armstrong, who was hugely delighted by the whole affair.
Three weeks, in fact, saw them settled in the finished portion of the house, while a small army of workmen still struggled with unfinished rooms and grounds and garden, under Dorothy's direction.
Lawrence Macgowan was the first guest to view the new home, or rather the completed portion of it. Armstrong brought him down from the city over a week-end, and eagerly displayed the grounds and house. He was delighted by his friend's unchecked enthusiasm and endorsement of everything that was being done.
At dinner, Macgowan heard the story about the decorators, and roared over it. When they had adjourned to the living room and were discussing Dorothy's choice of rugs, Macgowan stood with his back to the log fire, fingering his cigar; then he turned impulsively to Dorothy, and spoke.
"My dear Dorothy, may I make a frank confession?"
Dorothy's smile belied the flash of steel in her glance. "Certainly, if Reese may be a party to it!"