Our house isn't so very nice. We own it, of course, and that is a great
deal, as mother has often reminded us when we grumbled. But we girls always
thought there were some drawbacks even to that, because we couldn't ask a
landlord for new paper or fresh paint, and as for us--we never had money to
spare for such superfluities.
There are only four of us,--mother and Jack, Rose and me. We children have
been busy all our lives trying to get educated, so we could keep mother in
luxury after a while. In the meantime, she had done with bare necessities,
for the life-insurance father left wasn't large enough to take any liberty
with. Mother has things spick and span. No palace could be more beautifully
kept than our home, but the furnishing is nothing whatever to boast of.
Our room was almost the worst of all, with its odds and ends of things.
"Other girls have silver-backed hair-brushes!" wailed Rose one night,
regarding her old one with a scornful glance.
"Yes, and chairs that don't tip one over," I added, as I managed to save
myself from a fall.
"Isn't it horrid to be poor, Meta?" said Rose.
"It's no joke." I was very grim because I had bruised my hand on the
rickety chair, and tomorrow was music-lesson day, as I remembered.
It was then and there we rebelled. Not so mother could hear us--we weren't
mean enough for that! She'd have been only too glad to help matters if she
could. So we had our indignation meeting by our two selves. We said we'd
had enough of old furniture and cheap sash curtains, and we decided it was
time to act.
Having reached this decision, we proceeded to carry it out, and we
surprised ourselves with the speed of our achievements. My hope lay in
music, Rose's in arithmetic. I trailed around the neighborhood, next day,
looking for scholars, and Rose betook herself straight down to the Cowans,
who had been hunting for a "coach" for their twins. We had discussed the
Cowan possibility some time before, but Rose declared then that she
couldn't spare a minute from the demands of her studies, while I knew it
would keep me busy to be graduated on schedule time without doing anything
outside.
It makes a difference when you get interested in something for yourself. As
soon as ever we girls viewed these occupations in the light of furnishings
for our room, we felt sure we could squeeze them in--and we did. I got six
beginners, and Rose captured the Cowans, root and branch--four instead of
two; for it seemed they were not proficient in mathematical pursuits, and
their mother was delighted to get them off her distracted hands. All our
friends know that Rose adores sums and problems, and she didn't need any
other recommendation.
Well, we did it! It wasn't easy, either. If my half-dozen aspirants for
fame escaped shaking till their teeth chattered, it wasn't because I didn't
ache to administer it. And Rose feared her hair would be white before the
end of the term. You see, when there's a certain amount of housework you
feel obliged to do, and when your studies fairly clamor for attention the
rest of the time, it sets your nerves all awry to keep the tempo for clumsy
fingers that go just half as fast as they should; or to teach over and over
again that four times five are _always_ twenty.
But I suppose all these trials helped us to appreciate our possessions when
we did get them. They were just as sweet and dainty as we had hoped. We got
two single beds--white enamel with brass trimmings--and a pretty mirror in
a neat frame. Our old dressing-table looked like new with fresh drapery,
and there were full-length curtains to match. Two cunning white rockers,
two other chairs, and a little round stand made us feel simply blissful. We
painted our book-shelves with white enamel paint, and did our woodwork
ourselves. Jack painted the floor a soft gray that would blend with
anything, and after it was dry we laid on it one of our chief treasures. It
was a grass rug, in two shades of green, with a stenciled border and a
general air of elegance that almost overpowered us. It was large enough
almost to cover the floor, and we stenciled green borders on our curtains
and drapery in the same Grecian pattern.
It seemed too good to be true as we stood in the door and viewed the
landscape o'er after we had it done. "It isn't often that our dreams come
true!" sighed Rose.
"But this one has," I assured her.