"Why, what do you mean?" demanded Priscilla and Ruth together.
Amy opened the little grip she carried, produced a small-sized can of paint and handed it to Priscilla. A similar one was bestowed on the perplexed Ruth, and then Amy leaned back and looked from one to the other triumphantly.
"What do you want me to do with it?" frowned Priscilla. Then with a violent start, "Why, Amy Lassell!"
"Well?"
"This paint is moss green."
"And this," cried Ruth excitedly, "is yellow."
"And in here," explained Amy, patting her bag tenderly, "are all the colors of the rainbow in half pint cans. Did you ever see an exhibition of cubist pictures?"
"Yes, once," replied Priscilla mechanically, while Ruth too amazed for words, stared dumbly at her friend.
"Well, that is the way Aunt Phoebe's floor is going to look when we are through with it."
"Why, Amy," gasped Ruth, suddenly finding her voice. "You can't do anything like that. He wouldn't let you."