She knew how soon her child
would learn good from bad, once she came in contact with strangers. And
so well had the mother grounded her daughter that she had no qualms
about the result of any contacts.
Mrs. Brewster watched while Polly finished the placing of the dreadful
shades, then she looked about at the colored prints tacked upon every
available spot of rough plaster-walls. Her brow puckered at the
conglomeration of subjects and sizes of the chromos, but she knew how
carefully Polly had saved every one of them that had arrived with tea
or soap, so she passed no audible judgment.
"Oh, Maw! I have another great idea!" cried Polly, jumping from the
chair and clapping her hands.
"Yes?"
"Let's move Daddy's sofa into the bedroom and place it at the foot of
the bed, just like the pictures in the _Farm Journal_ show us! Then
we won't have to have the single bed brought in from the barn--Anne can
sleep on the bed-lounge."
"I really think Anne Stewart will prefer a bed, Polly, even if it is
small," gasped Mrs. Brewster hastily.
"Then we'll change later. It won't take a minute to move the sofa in
and it will look so citified to the girls who most likely have divans
or sofas in their bedrooms at home."
"I think they will like the difference--not having their country
bedroom look like the city one. A complete change always is better than
a similar environment, especially if the city rooms are more
artistically furnished than the result of _our_ efforts.
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