“It's germ proof,” she rejoined, soberly.
“Are we going to keep house on the antiseptic plan?”
“We are—it's better than the installment plan, isn't it? Oh, Carl!” she exclaimed, “I've had the brightest idea!”
“Spring it!” he demanded.
“Why, Aunt Jane's attic is full of old furniture, and I believe she'll give it to us!”
His face fell. “How charming,” he said, without emotion.
“Oh, you stupid,” she laughed, “it's colonial mahogany, every stick of it! It only needs to be done over!”
“Ruth, you're a genius.”
“Wait till I get it, before you praise me. Just stay here a minute and I'll run up to see what frame of mind she's in.”
When she entered the kitchen, the bride was busily engaged in getting supper. Uncle James, with a blue gingham apron tied under his arms, was awkwardly peeling potatoes. “Oh, how good that smells!” exclaimed Ruth, as a spicy sheet of gingerbread was taken out of the oven.