"I am so sorry, but I have to go," Emma whispered, as her mother left the room.
"Won't your mother let you come to see me some time?" Frances asked.
"I guess so, when I haven't anything to do," answered Emma, who thought Frances the most charming little girl she had ever seen.
CHAPTER SIXTH.
AN INFORMAL AFFAIR.
It was not long before the Morrisons' apartment blossomed into a charmingly homelike place. Even Mrs. Bond, who on one of her tours of inspection in the wake of Wilson Barnes, the student, had been enticed in for a moment, agreed that the rooms were very fine, though she herself would not care to have so many things to keep clean.
Their sitting room was the greatest achievement. There was the new rug, which really was a beauty, and the couch, with its plump cushions all covered in a marvellous fifteen-cent stuff that looked like a costly Oriental fabric, together with the books and pictures, which had been left packed and ready to be sent to them whenever they should settle down, and last of all, in the sunniest corner was a beautiful sword fern, a rubber plant, and a jar of ivy.
"Transients can't afford many plants, but a little greenness is essential to happiness," Mrs. Morrison declared.
The cosey kitchen was presided over by Zenobia Jackson, who exactly suited her surroundings, being small and neat and quick, combining in a most satisfactory way the duties of a parlor maid and cook.