"Just look at this noble old davenport, will you!" says she. "Isn't it a beauty? And that highboy! Real old San Domingo mahogany that is, with perfectly lovely crotch veneer in the panels. See?"
"Uh-huh," says I.
"And this four-poster with the pineapple tops and the canopy," she goes on. "Pure Colonial, a hundred years old."
"Eh?" says I, gazin' at it doubtful. "Course, I was lookin' for second-hand stuff, but I don't think he ought to work off anything that ancient on me, do you?"
"Silly!" says Vee. "It's a gem, and the older the better."
"We'll need some new rugs, won't we," says I, "in place of some of these faded things?"
"Faded!" says Vee. "Why, those are Bokharas. I will say for Mr. Crane that he has good taste. This is furnished so much better than most studios—nothing useless, no mixing of periods."
"Oh, when I go out after a home," says I, "I'm some grand little shopper."
"Pooh!" says Vee. "Who couldn't do it the way you did? Why, the place looks as if he'd just taken his hat and walked out. There are even cigars in the humidor. And his easel and paints and brushes! Do you know what I'm going to do, Torchy?"
"Put pink and green stripes around the cigars, I expect," says I.