Grace's mind was settling itself. By writing the facts in black and white they had become clearer to her. Now she was fully decided what course to take about Mahla. She wrote till nine o'clock, then signed herself, "Yours, like everything—Gracie."
"Now, Barby," said she, "yon may talk as much as you please, for I've no more writing to do. Much obliged to you for keeping so still."
Barby laughed in high good humor, and going into the pantry, brought out a funny little table, about a foot and a half long. It was a miniature extension table, of black walnut, freshly polished with sweet oil. Grace clapped her hands, screaming with delight.
"Why, where did this come from? Just what I've wanted for my dining-room department, Barby, ever since I had my cabinet!"
Barbara took out the inside leaves, making an oval centre-table.
"O, so cunning! Whose is it, Barby? I haven't felt like I could give dinner parties for my enormous doll on that tea-poy—it's too tall."
Barbara laughed quietly, by and by telling Grace that this new article of furniture was hers, made on purpose for her by Horace. Grace could hardly believe it, for even a small extension table requires much mechanical skill.
"O, but he has worked at it all the days for so long!" said Barbara, who was extremely proud of Horace.
Upon inquiry, she confessed that he had been to see the "tischler" (joiner) "two times," and that Robin had helped him a little.
"O, where's Horace?" cried Grace; "I want to see him this minute, to thank him for my beautiful present."