“How do you feel, mother?” she asked.
“It doesn’t hurt badly at all,” said her mother cheerfully.
Winona carried out the tray, and moved about, straightening her mother’s room a little more before she sat down to her work.
“You’re sure we’re not in your way, mother?” she asked.
“Indeed you aren’t!” said her mother. “You don’t know how lonely I’ve been with all my children gone. And do let in all the air and sunshine you can, dear. It may be hot later, so that we’ll have to shut out the light a part of the day.”
“All right,” said Winona, doing it. Then she called to Florence.
“Florence, will you get the oil-paints that we use for stencilling?” she asked. “I can borrow them, mother, can’t I?”
Mrs. Merriam was perfectly willing, and while Florence was getting the tubes of paints, and the brushes, Winona brought out a jar of ordinary kidney-beans from the kitchen. She spread newspapers on the floor and on the table, and when Florence came back with the paint she set to work.
“Just beans!” said Florence scornfully. “You can’t make beads out of them!”
“Can’t I?” said Winona, “Well, if you don’t like them when they’re done, I’ll buy you a string of any kind of colored ones that you want.”