"I tore that paper off," repeated Maria.

"You? Why?"

The double question seemed to hit the child like a pistol-shot, but
she did not flinch.

"Mother never had paper as pretty as this," she said, "nor new
furniture." Her eyes met her father's with indescribable reproach.

Harry looked at her with almost horror. For the moment the child's
eyes looked like her dead mother's, her voice sounded like her's. He
continued gazing at her.

"I couldn't bear it," said Maria. "She" [she meant Mrs. Addix] "was
asleep. I was all alone. I got to thinking. I came in here and tore
it off."

Harry heaved a deep sigh. He did not look nor was he in the least
angry.

"I know your poor mother didn't have much," said he. He sighed again.
Then he put his arm around Maria and kissed her. "You can have your
room newly papered now, if you want it," said he, in a choking voice.
"Father will send you over to Ellisville to-morrow with Mrs. White,
and you can pick out some paper your own self, and father will have
it put right on."

"I don't care about any," said Maria, and she began to sob.