Sary explained. "Cal Lorrimer tol' me like-es-how them winder shades wu'ked but Ah jest coulden' see it."
Mrs. Brewster laughed and Sary ventured to pulley the shade herself. She drew it up and down several times and then turned to express her sentiments to her mistress.
"My, but yuh're ferchunit t' have all seeh new-fangled idees in the house! It clean locoes me t' think Ah'm livin' wid sech fine contraptions." And Sary pressed her large freckled, hands over her sparse red hair to signify how "locoed" her brain really was.
Mrs. Brewster laughed merrily. "Why, Sary, since I left Denver, my friends all have shades in the windows that run up and down on springs without any other help. They go by themselves."
"Now, Miss Brewster! Do you believe that fairy-tale?" quizzed Sary, looking keenly at her mistress to see if she was trying to laugh at her ignorance of city-life.
"It is a fact, Sary—not a fairy-tale. My friend has them all through her house, and I expect to replace these pulleys with spring rollers, some day."
Sary passed her hand over the lustra design on the shade and Mrs. Brewster turned to leave the room. Before she closed the door, she said: "I'm going to start dinner, Sary. When you are ready you can join me in the kitchen."
The moment the mistress was gone, Sary ran to make sure the door was securely closed. Then she turned to inspect the belongings of the room. "Huh! the press ain't so much—plain deal painted brown."
The press was passed by the scornful occupant of the room, and the bed next came under her appraising eye.
"Th' bed's soft wood, too, but it feels comfertible."