Now the Ashfields were her grand people. She did not know them, but she meant to. They lived next door, and she thought nothing would be easier. They were not only rich, but fashionable. He was a man of talent and information, (but that the Fairchilds knew nothing about,) head of half the literary institutions, a person of weight and influence in all circles. She was very pretty and very elegant—dressing beautifully, and looking very animated and happy; and Mrs. Fairchild often gazed at her as she drove from the door, (for the houses joined,) and made up her mind to be very intimate as soon as she was "all fixed."
"The Ashfields have Egyptian," she repeated, and Pharaoh faded into insignificance before such grand authority—and so she ordered Egyptian too.
"Not there," said Mrs. Fairchild, "you need not measure there," as the cabinet-maker was taking the dimensions of her rooms. "I shall have a looking-glass there."
"A mirror in a library!" said the man of rule and inches, with a tone of surprise that made Mrs. Fairchild color. "Did you wish a mirror here, ma'am," he added, more respectfully.
"No, no," she replied quickly, "go on"—for she felt at once that he had seen the inside of more libraries than she had.
Her ideas received another illumination from the upholsterer, as she was looking at blue satin for a curtain to the one large window which opened on a conservatory, who said,
"Oh, it's for a library window; then cloth, I presume, madam, is the article you wish."
"Cloth!" she repeated, looking at him.
"Yes," he replied; "we always furnish libraries with cloth. Heavy, rich materials is considered more suitable for such a purpose than silk."
Mrs. Fairchild was schooled again. However, Mr. Ashfield was again the model.