“Well, it’s a greenish, brownish, yellowish olive, isn’t it?” I replied. “That’s what I asked for! Do the walls in this colour, and paint the woodwork, mantels, and the panels over them and the bookcase and settles a creamy white, with a creamy white on the ceiling, and oil up this old floor and stain the strip of new boards where the partition was, and my room is ready!”
We went into the little hall, where the front door stood open, and we could see Hard on a ladder mending the beautiful carved door cap outside.
“This hall the same colour,” said I, “with the rails of the baluster in the cream white of the trim.”
We went into the northeast room and the dining-room behind it.
“Same colour here?” asked the painter.
I was about to answer yes, when Miss Goodwin spoke. “I should think you’d want these rooms lighter in colour,” she said, “as they face the north.”
“The lady’s right,” said the painter.
“They always are,” I smiled. “You two fix up the colour for this room, then. We can decide on the other rooms after these downstairs are done.”
“No,” cried the girl, “I won’t do anything of the kind! You might not like what I picked.”
“Incredible!” said I. “I’ve really got to get to work outside now.” And I ran off, leaving her looking a little angrily, I thought, after me.