"I couldn't, and if I can't, you can't, at least you oughtn't to. It would look too silly to have a bed on only one side. The garden would look like a pig with one ear."
"It would be a very pretty pig," laughed Faith, "at least its one ear would."
"Anyhow, we couldn't get it done by Thursday, and what I wanted was to try and get the place looking nicer by the time the Vivians come. Now I am going in to see if I can do anything to the drawing-room."
"Oh!" Faith's face grew grave. "Do you think we need use the drawing-room? Won't the dining-room do? You see we have taken some of the nicest things from there for mother's room—to make that as nice as possible. The curtains, and the carpet."
"Whatever are we going to do!" cried Audrey in genuine dismay. "It really is too dreadful. Father oughtn't to ask people here if we haven't a room fit to ask them into. You see we must use the drawing-room."
"What for?"
"Why, for tea, of course, for one thing."
"Oh!" cried Faith, "don't let's have a dotted-around-the-room tea! The children make such a mess with their crumbs, they can't help it, and they are sure to upset their cups, and drop their plates—and we shall be in one big worry all the time. They hate those teas, and so do I! Let's have a nice comfortable one in the dining-room, and sit up to table."
"And spend all the rest of the time there too, I suppose?" sarcastically.
Faith looked pained. "Well, I don't suppose they would mind very much if we did, as long as we were all jolly and happy. They seemed so kind and friendly, and not a bit stuck up."