"Oh, of course!" I exclaimed, joyfully, for all sorts of brilliant
thoughts had come to me while I tossed rather wakefully in the early
morning hours. "Don't you know, Allan, that Uncle Geoffrey has
decided to send mother and Carrie and Dot down to the sea for a week,
while you and I and Jack make things comfortable for them? Now, why
should we not help ourselves to the best of the furniture at Combe
Manor, and make Uncle Geoff turn out all these ugly things? We might
have our pretty carpet from the drawing-room, and the curtains, and
mother's couch, and some of the easy-chairs, and the dear little
carved cabinet with our purple china; it need not all be sold when we
want it so badly for mother."

Allan was so delighted at the idea that we propounded our views to
Uncle Geoffrey at dinner-time; but he did not see the thing quite in
our light.

"Of course you will need furniture for the bedrooms," he returned,
rather dubiously; "but I wanted to sell the rest of the things that
were not absolutely needed, and invest the money."

But this sensible view of the matter did not please me or Allan. We
had a long argument, which ended in a compromise--the question of
carpets might rest. Uncle Geoffrey's was a good Brussels, although it
was dingy; but I might retain, if I liked, the pretty striped
curtains from our drawing-room at Combe Manor, and mother's couch,
and a few of the easy-chairs, and the little cabinet with the purple
china; and then there was mother's inlaid work-table, and Carrie's
davenport, and books belonging to both of us, and a little gilt clock
that father had given mother on her last wedding-day--all these
things would make an entire renovation in the shabby parlors.