Whiteness is appetising.
And the boldly-marked creases of the linen are so dear. Without them the linen is not half so inviting.
I was taught the beauty of single line in drawing class some years ago.
But now for the first time I fully comprehended it from the Meriken tablecloth.
I wished I could ever stay gazing at it.
If I start my housekeeping in this country—do I ever dream of it?—I shall not hesitate to invest all my money in linen.
I laughed when I fancied that I sat with my husband—where’s he in the world?—spreading a skilfully ironed linen cloth on the Spring grasses (what a gratifying white and green!), and I upset a teapot over the linen, while he ran after water;—then I picked all the buttercups and covered the dark red stain.
The minister makes a ridiculous show of himself in the dining-room.
His laughter draws the attention of every lady.
This morning he exclaimed: “Americans have no courtesy for strangers, except meaning money.”