And what did he think, as he stood lazily leaning against the door into the dressing room, watching the women examine the drawers? Mrs. Wright had brought with her a friend who was planning a new house, a prosperous-looking person, and who listened thoughtfully to Martha's answers to her questions. This person was impressed. She kept looking at Martha when they were seated at length in the painted room.
"How much of this did you do yourself?" she asked. "Hadn't you seen something like it somewhere?"
Martha was sitting on a cushion at Emily's feet.
"Oh yes. I'd seen one in New York. And I just told the old Dane, the carpenter, how many drawers I wanted, and how big, and he did it all himself. I couldn't measure them, or anything like that. He had them all ready to put in when I got home. I'd like to do over all the closets in the house." She looked at her mother, against whom she was leaning.
The guests looked at Emily. She had to say something.
"But if all the closets in this house had so many drawers, we wouldn't have enough to put into them."
"I know it. Isn't that funny?" Martha turned to the other. "People are so silly. The closets are so big there's nothing to fill them with. Same way with our basement. It's a horror!" Martha spoke with such conviction that her hearers laughed. "Well, it is," she insisted to Emily. "There's a wood room and a coal room, and drying room, and storeroom with nothing but the hose and two old barrels in it. I could put all those things into one room nicely, and have three great big rooms. They could be billiard rooms, or play rooms, or nice workshops. If I had a lot of children in this house I could give them all two rooms apiece."
Emily included Johnnie in her glance. He had his eyes fixed hard on Martha—who avoided them innocently but persistently.
And that thoughtful and prosperous-looking stranger said:
"Wouldn't you like to drive over and look at my plans? Our basement is going to cost an awful lot."