The next morning Joanna overslept herself, in consequence of a restless hour during the first part of the night. As a result, it had struck half past seven before she went into her sister's room. She was not the kind of person who knocks at doors, and burst in to find Ellen, inadequately clothed in funny little garments, doing something very busily inside the cupboard.
"Hullo, duckie! And how did you sleep in your lovely bed?"
She was once more aglow with the vitality and triumph of her own being, but the next moment she experienced a vague sense of chill—something was the matter with the room, something had happened to it. It had lost its sense of cheerful riot, and wore a chastened, hangdog air. In a spasm of consternation Joanna realized that Ellen had been tampering with it.
"What have you done?—Where's my pictures?—Where've you put the window curtains?" she cried at last.
Ellen stiffened herself and tried not to look guilty.
"I'm just trying to find room for my own things."
Joanna stared about her.
"Where's father's Buffalo certificate?"
"I've put it in the cupboard."
"In the cupboard!—father's ... and I'm blessed if you haven't taken down the curtains."