He had managed it very ingeniously. Two panels, so to say, of old tapestry, very charming in tone, had been lined and framed with dull green cloth, making a very good pair of portières indeed.
"Oh, papa!" I cried, "do let us have these. There are sure to be draughty doors at Finster, and afterwards they would make perfect "portières" for the two side doors in the hall at home."
Father eyed the tapestry appreciatively, but first prudently inquired the price. It seemed higher in proportion than Hunter's other charges.
"You see, sir," he said half apologetically, "the panels are real antique work, though so much the worse for wear."
"Where did they come from?" asked father.
Hunter hesitated.
"To tell you the truth, sir," he replied, "I was asked not to name the party that I bought it from. It seems a pity to part with heir-looms, but—it happens sometimes—I bought several things together of a family quite lately. The portières have only come out of the workroom this morning. We hurried on with them to stop them fraying more—you see where they were before, they must have been nailed to the wall."
Janet Miles, who was something of a connoisseur, had been examining the tapestry.
"It is well worth what he asks," she said, in a low voice. "You don't often come across such tapestry in England."
So the bargain was struck, and Hunter promised to see all that we had chosen, both purchased and hired, delivered at Finster the week before we proposed to come.