"Do you know, Louisa," she said slowly, "I believe we could make curtains for those windows—just straight side-drapes, you understand, with a plain valance across the top."
"I've seen pictures," Louisa admitted, "but I haven't any material."
"I could get it," Rosemary began, but Louisa shook her head.
"It's a silly idea, anyway," she declared resolutely. "I haven't any business to be thinking about curtains when the whole house is as shabby as my old winter coat. If Mrs. Robinson does come and see new curtains she'd know right away that I'd spent money I couldn't afford on them. She might even get the idea that I was trying to make an impression."
"You have a perfect right to try and make a pleasant impression!" flared Rosemary hotly. "Of course you have. And I'll tell you how to make new curtains and they won't cost a cent—except money you have already paid. Use the blue and white gingham!"
Louisa stared. She had bought, almost as soon as Alec had told her the good news of the farm's rental, a dozen yards of neat blue and white checked gingham to make Kitty and June some much-needed frocks and herself an apron or two.
"But I never heard of gingham curtains!" Louisa protested.
"They're very fashionable for bedrooms," Rosemary assured her. "We have some at Rainbow Hill—I can show you those. And Mother has a magazine with heaps of pictures in that show checked casement curtains. You'll love them when you see them made and hung, Louisa."
"Well—the children can wait for the dresses, I suppose," said Louisa.
And, with Rosemary's help, the curtains were made and hung before the circus agent's wife paid her promised visit. They were a great success and Louisa was inordinately proud of them.