ue chest. There's a lot of
things there that the moths got at after Grandma died, and I couldn't
bear to throw or give 'em away. Trim up your room as you like, and mind
you don't forget your part of the bargain," answered Mrs. Grant, seeing
profit in the plan.

"I won't; I'll work all the morning to-morrow, and in the afternoon I'll
get ready to show you what I call a nice, pretty room," answered Merry,
looking so pleased it seemed as if another flower had blossomed in the
large bare kitchen.

She kept her word, and the very stormy afternoon when Jill got into
trouble, Merry was working busily at her little bower. In the blue chest
she found a variety of treasures, and ignoring the moth holes, used them
to the best advantage, trying to imitate the simple comfort with a touch
of elegance which prevailed in Mrs. Minot's back bedroom.

Three faded red-moreen curtains went up at the windows over the chilly
paper shades, giving a pleasant glow to the bare walls. A red quilt with
white stars, rather the worse for many washings, covered the bed, and a
gay cloth the table, where a judicious arrangement of books and baskets
concealed the spots. The little air-tight stove was banished, and a pair
of ancient andirons shone in the fire-light. Grandma's last and largest
braided rug lay on the hearth, and her brass candlesticks adorned the
bureau, over the mirror of which was festooned a white muslin skirt,
tied up with Merry's red sash. This piece of elegance gave the last
touch to her room, she thought, and she was very proud of it, setting
forth all her small store of trinkets in a large shell, with an empty
scent bottle, and a clean tidy over the pincushion. On the walls she
hung three old-fashioned pictures, which she ventured to borrow from
the garret till better could be found. One a mourning piece, with a very
tall lady weeping on an urn in a grove of willows, and two small boys in
knee breeches and funny little square tails to their coats, looking like
cherubs in large frills. The other was as good as a bonfire, being an
eruption of Vesuvius, and very lurid indeed, for the Bay of Naples was
boiling like a pot, the red sky raining rocks, and a few distracted
people lying flat upon the shore. The third was a really pretty scene
of children dancing round a May-pole, for though nearly a hundred years
old, the little maids smiled and the boys pranced as gayly as if the
flowers they carried were still alive and sweet.

"Now I'