“In the rose room, Miss Cathalina; I just finished in there.”
“Mother’s given you the room across from mine, Hilary,—will you be lonesome? If you are, you can come and sleep with me.”
“O, no,” Hilary answered. “I’ve always had to share my room with June or little Mary, so it will be lovely to have a room of my own—though, of course, I’d love to be with you.”
Cathalina laughed. “I understand perfectly, Hilary. Come and see how you like it.”
“O, what a dear of a room!” Hilary stopped just inside to feast her eyes.
“I like this room too, and came very near taking it after it was decorated; but blue is my color, after all, and I stick to my own room.”
The rose room was not quite so large as Cathalina’s. Its furniture and woodwork were of some very dark wood, Hilary did not know what. She had an impression of handsome furniture, pale pink to rose color upon white or gray tones, in walls and draperies. Pink and white silk curtains were at the windows. The dainty dressing table was fitted with silver.
“Now I’m going to leave you to yourself for a little while, Hilary,—we can clean up and I feel like another nap before lunch. There is paper and everything in the desk there if you want to write home. Do you want Etta to help you with your bath?”
“Mercy no!” said frank Hilary, “I wouldn’t know what to do being waited on.”
“All right. I see she has put everything out that you’ll need. Better just get into bed for a little while like me. I’ll have her get the bath ready for you.”