originals by Mennoyer, the delightful Eighteenth Century artist who did
the overdoors of the Petit Trianon.

The mirror-framed lighting fixtures I brought over from France. The
dining-table too, was French, of a creamy ivory-painted wood. The chairs
had insets of cane of a deeper tone. The recessed window-seat was
covered with a soft velvet of a deep yellow, and there were as many
little footstools beside the window-seat as there were chairs in the
room. Doesn't everyone long for a footstool at table?

I believe that everything in one's house should be comfortable, but
one's bedroom must be more than comfortable: it must be intimate,
personal, one's secret garden, so to speak. It may be as simple as a
convent cell and still have this quality of the personality of its
occupant.

There are two things that are as important to me as the bed in the
bedrooms that I furnish, and they are the little tables at the head of
the bed, and the lounging chairs. The little table must hold a good
reading light, well shaded, for who doesn't like to read in bed? There
must also be a clock, and there really should be a telephone. And the
_chaise-longue_, or couch, as the case may be, should be both
comfortable and beautiful. Who hasn't longed for a comfortable place to
snatch forty winks at midday?

My own bedroom in this house was very pleasant to me. The house was very
small, you see, and my bedroom had to be my writing-and reading-room
too, so that accounts for the bookshelves that fill the wall space above
and around the mantel and the large writing-table. The room was built
around a wonderful old French bed which came from Brittany. This old bed