At her use of the word mamma, Mr. Breen’s heart leaped. He had been a patient, but very unhappy man, and the thought that his little household might become united was the greatest happiness he could imagine. So he grumbled out that he was glad of that, because he never could tell the least thing about the silly strips of paper they showed in the stores, and Lucy could go ahead and get whatever she wanted.
But the following morning, when a van backed up to the door and a couple of men commenced to take away all the prettiest wicker furniture in the house he demanded some explanation.
“Why, they have to be painted for mamma’s new room,” said the practical Miss Breen. “You said I could go ahead, and I have gone!”
“All our furniture has gone too, I should say,” said Mr. Breen.
“Just the best of the wicker,” answered Lucy. “I thought and thought all last night, and I have decided just what would be the loveliest thing in the world for her, with her violet blue eyes and golden hair. So when you were shaving I telephoned for the men to come and take the chairs and tables and that chaise-longue and they are all going to be painted.
“And today you had better write her that you think it would be a good thing, as long as she is there, to stay another week. Don’t let her suspect, but don’t let her come home.”
“Very well,” said Mr. Breen with a twinkle in his eye, but outwardly very meek. “Just as you say. Send the bills to me.”
“Oh, I was going to,” said Lucy with the happiest laugh he had heard from her for months.
Mr. Breen did not come home for luncheon, and every day Lucy managed to have Elise or Rosanna or Helen take that meal with her.
Lucy worked like mad and nearly wore the workmen out, she hurried them so. Mrs. Breen decided to make a longer stay, but even then there was but little time, because Lucy had decided that all the woodwork must be re-enameled. When that was done and the paper on, she cast aside the old rug with scorn, and took the three girls downtown to buy others. As the days went on, Lucy found that her point of view was wholly changed. She was so intent on the beautiful surprise she was planning that it seemed to sweep her mind clean of all the dark and unworthy feelings that had filled it. She even wrote to Mrs. Breen at a suggestion from Elise, a pleasant friendly letter, ending, “With love, Lucy.”