She was pleased at my admiration, and did her utmost to facilitate matters. Father was taken with the place, too, I could see, but he hummed and hawed a good deal about the bareness of the rooms—the bedrooms especially. So Janet and I went into it at once in a business-like way, making lists of the actually necessary additions, which did not prove very formidable after all.
"Hunter will manage all that easily," said Miss Miles, upon which father gave in—I believe he had meant to do so all the time. The rent was really so low that a little furniture-hire could be afforded, I suggested. And father agreed.
"It is extremely low," he said, "for a place possessing so many advantages."
But even then it did not occur to any of us to suggest "suspiciously low".
We had the Miles's guarantee for it all, to begin with. Had there been any objection they must have known it.
We spent the night with them and the next morning at the furniture dealer's. He was a quick, obliging little man, and took in the situation at a glance. And his terms were so moderate that father said to me amiably: "There are some quaint odds and ends here, Leila. You might choose a few things, to use at Finster in the first place, and then to take home with us."
I was only too ready to profit by the permission, and with Janet's help a few charmingly quaint chairs and tables, a three-cornered wall cabinet, and some other trifles were soon put aside for us. We were just leaving, when at one end of the shop some tempting-looking draperies caught my eye.
"What are these?" I asked the upholsterer. "Curtains! Why, this is real old tapestry!"
The obliging Hunter drew out the material in question.
"They are not exactly curtains, miss," he said. "I thought they would make nice portières. You see the tapestry is set into cloth. It was so frail when I got it that it was the only thing to do with it."