The dining-room was more than plainly furnished; it was positively ugly.
The furniture consisted of a round table standing on an unpolished parquet floor, of six cane chairs set against the wall, and of a walnut-wood buffet, on the shelves of which stood no plates, or ornaments of any description. The walls were distempered a reddish-pink colour, and here and there the colour had run in streaky patches.
"Is it not charming?" exclaimed Madame Wachner. "And now I will show you our pretty little salon!"
Sylvia followed her out into the hall, and so to the left into the short passage which ran down the centre of the tiny house.
The drawing-room of the Châlet des Muguets was a little larger than the dining-room, but it was equally bare of anything pretty or even convenient. There was a small sofa, covered with cheap tapestry, and four uncomfortable-looking chairs to match; on the sham marble mantelpiece stood a gilt and glass clock and two chandeliers. There was not a book, not a paper, not a flower.
Both rooms gave Sylvia a strange impression that they were very little lived in. But then, of course, the Wachners were very little at home.
"And now I will get tea," said Madame Wachner triumphantly.
"Will you not let me help you?" asked Sylvia, timidly. "I love making tea—every Englishwoman loves making tea." She had no wish to be left in this dull, ugly little drawing-room by herself.
"Oh, but your pretty dress! Would it not get 'urt in the kitchen?" cried Madame Wachner deprecatingly.
But she allowed Sylvia to follow her into the bright, clean little kitchen, of which the door was just opposite the drawing-room.