“Say, isn't this great!” he exclaimed, as they entered the attic. “Trunks, cobwebs, and old furniture! Why have I never been here before?”
“It wasn't proper,” replied Ruth, primly, with a sidelong glance at him. “No, go away!”
They dragged the furniture out into the middle of the room and looked it over critically. There was all that she had described, and unsuspected treasure lay in concealment behind it. “There's almost enough to furnish a flat!” she cried, in delight.
He was opening the drawers of a cabinet, which stood far back under the eaves. “What's this, Ruth?”
“Oh, it's old blue china—willow pattern! How rich we are!”
“Is old blue willow-pattern china considered beautiful?”
“Of course it is, you goose! We'll have to have our dining-room done in old blue, now, with a shelf on the wall for these plates.”
“Why can't we have a red dining-room?”
“Because it would be a fright. You can have a red den, if you like.”
“All right,” he answered, “but it seems to me it would be simpler and save a good deal of expense, if we just pitched the plates into the sad sea. I don't think much of 'em.”