visionally, consigning it mentally to the large
scrap-heap of Ridge belongings which she had already begun in the back
yard.

"Well, daughter," Mr. Ridge called out cheerily from the open door, "how
you're getting on?"

"Oh, papa!" (Somewhere in the course of her wanderings Milly had learned
not to say "paw.")

She flew to the little man and hugged him enthusiastically.

"I'm so dead tired--I've worked every minute, haven't I, Sam?"

"She sure has," the boy chuckled admiringly, "kep us all agoin' too!"

"How do you like it, papa?"

Milly led the little man into the front room and waited breathlessly for
his approbation. It was her first attempt in the delicate art of
household arrangement.

"It's fine--it's all right!" Horatio commented amiably, twisting an
unlighted cigar between his teeth and surveying the room dubiously. His
tone implied bewilderment. He was a creature of habits, even if they
were peripatetic habits: he missed the parlor furniture and the green
rug. They meant home to him. Looking into the rear cavern where Milly
had thrust all the furniture she had not the courage to scrap, he
observed slyly,--"What'll your grandmother say?"

"She's said it," Milly laughed.

Horatio chuckled. This was woman's business, and wise male that he was
he maintained an amused neutrality.

"Ain't you most unpacked, Milly? I'm getting dead tired of boarding."

"Oh, I've just begun, really! You don't know what time it takes to
settle a house properly."

"Didn't think we had so much stuff."

"We haven't _anything_ fit to use--that's the trouble. We must get some
new things right away. I want a rug for this room first."

"Isn't there a carpet?"

"A carpet! Papa, they don't use carpets any more. A nice, soft rug, with
a border 'round it...."

Horatio retreated towards the door. But before they had reached the
boarding-house, the first advance towards Milly's Ideal of the New Home
had been plotted. The rug was settled. Milly was to meet her father in
the city at noon on the morrow and select one. Arm in arm, father and
daughter came up the steps,--charming picture of family intimacy.

"So nice to see father and daughter such friends!" one of the
boarding-house ladies observed to Grandma Ridge.

"Oh, yes," the old lady admitted with a chilly smile. She knew what
these demonstrations cost in cash from her son's leaky pockets. If she
had lived later, doubtless she would have called Milly a cunning
grafter.