Adelaide laughed. “Do you suppose I could think the furniture new?” she asked. “You ought to see it—horrid old brown rep, and a carpet that’s worn into white spots!”
But though she laughed, she looked to Winona for the answer with real eagerness.
“Well, I’ll tell you what I’d do,” suggested Winona thoughtfully—“I don’t suppose you would, you’re such a haughty Lady Imogene—I’d make a furnishing bee of it, and have a party, and invite all the girls to help you do the flat over. Your father and Lonny would help, wouldn’t they?”
“Oh, I guess so,” she said.
“Well, then, the girls would help you cover the furniture and stain the floor, and even paper, maybe. And if your father or Lonny could paint the wood-work—or would the landlord?”
“No,” said Adelaide, “he won’t make repairs. It’s not in the lease. And where would I get money for the paint and paper and stain and covers?”
“Earn it!” said Winona. “There are lots of ways. That jam you made for the sales—you could get heaps of orders for that, I know. Oh, I should think it would be lovely to do. I tell you, Adelaide, you may think I’m crazy—but everything’s fun, if you’ll only remember that it is fun!”
“I wonder!” said Adelaide. “But I believe I could make money with jams and preserves if I worked hard at it.”
“We’ve all got to earn some more money soon if we want to stay in the camp longer than three weeks,” said Winona, “unless Louise can feed us all on the venison steaks she was talking about last night. If you can make money for the camp you can for yourself!”
Adelaide turned impulsively—they had risen and were going on through the wood—and threw her arms around Winona.