Mandy Calline, with her blazing splinter, lighted the lamp, quite a gay
affair, with a gaudily painted shade, and bits of red flannel with
scalloped edges floating about in the bowl.
The floor was covered with a neatly woven rag carpet of divers gay colors.
Before the hearth, which displayed a coat of red ochre, lay a home-made rug
of startling pattern. The fireplace was filled with cedar boughs and
sweet-smelling myrtle. Two "boughten" rocking-chairs of painted wood
confronted each other primly from opposite ends of the rug. Half a dozen
straight-back chairs, also "boughten," were disposed stiffly against the
walls. A large folding-leaf dining-table of real mahogany, an heirloom in
the family, occupied the space between two windows, and held a few
scattered books.
The windows were covered with paper curtains of a pale blue tint. In the
centre of each a festive couple, a youth and damsel, of apparently Bohemian
type, with clasped hands held high, disported themselves in a frantic
dance. These pictures were considered by the entire neighborhood as resting
triumphantly on the top round of the ladder of art.
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