The brass bedstead had a lace
coverlet over pink silk, and the toilet-table had frilled curtains and pink
ribbons. There were silver-mounted brushes and bottles and knickknacks of
all kinds. The little work-table was a gem, and there was a lovely
writing-desk with silver appointments and pink blotting-paper. Then there
was a cozy divan, with lots of fluffy pink pillows, and through a
half-opened door, Patty could see a dear little dressing-room.
There were beautiful pictures on the walls, and costly vases and
bric-a-brac all about, and it all showed such kind thought on the part of
somebody, that Patty's heart was touched.
"Is it for me? Who did it all?" she asked, turning to Ethelyn with shining
eyes.
"Oh, mamma did it; she loves to do such things. That is, she planned it,
and the servants did the work. Here's my room right next. It's just like
it, almost." So it was, or at least it had been, but it showed signs of
carelessness and disorder. A lamp globe was broken, and there was a large
hole burned in one of the pretty rugs.
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