They quite approved, mother even saying that she would be glad of a few more odds and ends.
"We might empower Janet Miles," she said, "to let us know if she sees anything very tempting. Is that really all we have? They looked so much more important in their swathings."
The same idea struck me. I glanced round.
"Yes," I said, "that's all, except—oh, yes, there are the tapestry "portières"—the best of all. We can't have them in the drawing-room, I fear. It is too modern for them. Where shall we hang them?"
"You are forgetting, Leila," said mother. "We spoke of having them in the hall. They will do beautifully to hang before the two side doors, which are seldom opened. And in cold weather the hall is draughty, though nothing like the gallery at Finster."
Why did she say that? It made me shiver, but then, of course, she did not know.
Our hall is a very pleasant one. We sit there a great deal. The side doors mother spoke of are second entrances to the dining-room and library—quite unnecessary, except when we have a large party, a dance or something of that sort. And the "portières" certainly seemed the very thing, the mellow colouring of the tapestry showing to great advantage. The boys—Phil and Nugent, I mean—set to work at once, and in an hour or two the hangings were placed.
"Of course," said Philip, "if ever these doors are to be opened, this precious tapestry must be taken down, or very carefully looped back. It is very worn in some places, and in spite of the thick lining it should be tenderly handled. I am afraid it has suffered a little from being so long rolled up at the Rectory. It should have been hung up!"
Still, it looked very well indeed, and when father, who was away at some magistrates' meeting, came home that afternoon, I showed him our arrangements with pride.
He was very pleased.