his include the repairs upon the place?"

"Yes--but you know wages are low just now and lumber is cheap. Having no
roof to the porch made it inexpensive. The painting Anthony helped at
himself. He worked every minute of his two weeks' vacation on whatever
would cost most to hire done."

"Anthony worked at painting the house?" There was astonishment in Mr.
Marcy's voice. He had known the Robesons of Kentucky all his life. He had
never seen one of them lift his hand to do manual labour. There had been
no need.

"Yes," said Juliet, and the cheek which rested against her father's knee
began to grow warm.

"You have obtained a somewhat extraordinary effect of harmony and comfort
inside the house," Mr. Marcy pursued. "It is difficult to understand just
how you brought it about with so small an expenditure of money."

It was quite impossible now for Juliet to keep her head down. She looked
up eagerly, but she still managed to speak quietly.

"It _is_ effect, father, and it is art--not money. The paper on the wall
cost twenty-five cents a roll, but it is the right paper for the place,
and the wrong paper at ten times that sum wouldn't give the room such a
background of soft restfulness. Then, you see, the old white woodwork is
in very good style, and the green walls bring it out. The old floor was
easily dressed to give that beautiful waxed finish. They told me how to do
that at the best decorator's in Boston. The rug fits the colourings very
well. Anthony's old furniture would give any such room dignity. The
portrait lends the finishing touch, I think. You see, when you analyse it
all there's nothing in the least wonderful. But it looks like a
home--doesn't it? And when the little things are in which grow in a
home--the photographs, a bowl of sweet-williams from the garden, the
lovely old copper lamp you gave me on my birthday--can't you think how
dear it will all be?"

Mr. Marcy glanced down keenly into his daughter's face.

"There are a great many things of your own at home which would naturally
come into your married home," he said.

Juliet coloured richly. "Yes," she answered with steady eyes, "but except
for the lamp, and the photographs, and a few such very little things, I
should not bring them. Anthony is poor, but he is very proud. I couldn't
hurt him by furnishing his home with the overflow of mine. Besides--I
don't need those things. I don't want them. All I want out of the old home
is--your love--your ble