ion of the extra-bed problem than the mechanical folding-bed, which
is always hideous and usually dangerous. A good day bed may be designed
to fit into any room. This one of mine is of carved walnut, a very
graceful one that I found in France.

In a small sitting-room in an uptown house, an illustration of which is
shown, I had a day bed made of white wood that was painted to match the
chintzes of the room. The mattress and springs were covered with a bird
chintz on a mauve ground, and the pillows were all covered with the same
stuff. The frame of the bed was painted cream and decorated with a dull
green line and small garlands of flowers extracted from the design of
the chintz. When the mattress and springs have been properly covered
with damask, or chintz, or whatever you choose to use, there is no
suggestion of the ordinary bed.

I suppose there isn't a more charming room in New York than Miss Anne
Morgan's Louis XVI boudoir. The everyday sitting-room of a woman of many
interests, it is radiant with color and individuality, as rare rugs are
radiant, as jewels are radiant. The cream walls, with their carved
moldings and graceful panelings, are a pleasant background for all this
shimmering color. The carvings and moldings are pointed in blue. The
floor is covered with a Persian rug which glows with all the soft tones
of the old Persian dye-pots. The day bed, a few of the chairs, and the
chest of drawers, are of a soft brown walnut. There are other chairs
covered with Louis XVI tapestries, brocade and needlework, quite in
harmony with the modern chintz of the day bed and the hangings. Above
the day bed there is a portrait of a lady, hung by wires covered with
shirred blue ribbons, and this blue is again used in an old porcelain
lamp jar on the bedside table. The whole room might have been inspired
by the lady of the portrait, so essentially is it the room of a
fastidious woman.

But to go back to my own boudoir: it is really sitting-room, library,
and rest-room combined, a home room very much like my down-town office
in the conveniences it offers. In the early morning it is my office,
where I plan the day's routine and consult my servants. In the rare
evenings when I may give myself up to solid comfort and a new book it
becomes a haven of refuge after the business of the day. When I choose
to work at home with my secretary, it is as business-like a place as my
down-town office. It is a sort of room of all trades, and