CHAPTER IX

THE GIRLS' DOMAIN

We learn most through our mistakes.

You know what the British workman is. Believe me, that the particular specimen of the British workman who haunts Northampton Park has no fewer sins than his fellow who inhabits the heart of London. The days dragged on, dragged on, dragged on. Oh, that lovely sitting-room of Maudie and Julia Whittaker's imagination, day by day it seemed as if it was receding further and further into the Never-Never-Land.

First of all, there was a difficulty about the paper. After a week's delay, various samples of paper were submitted to them, papers that were marvellously cheap, marvellously dainty. The choice being left entirely to the girls, it fell upon one at two-and-four the piece. It was an elegant paper; stripes of white satin alternated with a wide white rib, upon which were flung at regular intervals delicate bouquets of banksia roses and violets. The ribbon which tied each bouquet and meandered on to the next was of the most delicate blue. The ceiling was of embossed white satin (apparently), and the frieze, which was rather deep, was composed of long festoons of the tiny roses caught at intervals with bunches of violets. Oh, it was a lovely paper! But they had to wait for it. For some occult reason, best known to the decorator who had undertaken the work of transforming that particular room at Ye Dene--which, by-the-bye, the girls determined to christen the _parloir_--that particular paper was out of stock. Impatient Julia suggested that they should choose another one, but the decorator blandly informed her that it was such a favorite with fashionable people in the West End that the manufacturers were reprinting, and he expected the consignment for their room--which he had already ordered--to arrive at any moment.

And the days went by after the manner of days when there is a little house-decorating on hand. The decorator suggested that they could get on with the rest of the work, so on a duly-appointed day several gentlemen, dressed in lily-white garments, arrived and began to work their will upon the empty room. They swept the chimney--not the lily-white gentlemen, but a black one who seemed to be on friendly terms with them; they tore off the existing paper and they washed the ceiling, and then they went away and thought about things. They thought about things for several days, until at last the Whittaker girls hied them to the head office and made representation to the master of the business. Then they came and papered half the ceiling.

"How lovely it looks, doesn't it?" said Maudie to Julia.

"It would look lovelier if it were all done. I expect we shall have to go and fetch them to paper the other half."

It was quite true. But still, bit by bit, the room progressed towards a thing of beauty, and at length, after a period of about five weeks, the foreman in charge of the work announced in a tone of triumph that they had come to bid the household at Ye Dene adieu. He didn't put it in those words, my reader, but that was his meaning.

"I am sure we are very much obliged to you," said Julia. "You have been a very long time about it."

"Well, lady, the workman gets blamed when the blame belongs to somebody else. You see, we had to wait for the paper, and when we got the paper we had to wait for the frieze, and then when we got the frieze we had to wait for that bit of paint just to finish off the doors. Still, it'll last much longer because it has been slow in doin'."

"Oh, really, will it?" said Julia, rather taken aback. "Oh, I'm glad of that, because, of course, as it takes such a long time doing, one doesn't want to be often turned out of one's room for so long. Thank you so much. Would you like a glass of beer?"

"Well, lady, a glass of beer never comes amiss to a man at the end of a hard day's work," rejoined the foreman. "Me and my mates thank you very much."

So Julia called to one of the servants and ordered "Beer for these gentlemen" with a lavish air which the more frugal Regina might not have approved had she happened to be at home. Regina was, however, at that moment gracing with her dignified presence a platform devoted at that hour to the restriction of the sale of strong drinks, and the incident never came to her knowledge.

"Now, Maudie," said Julia, "have you any suggestions to make?"

Maudie stood looking round and round the room which was to be their especial domain.

"It's awfully pretty," she said. "Well, as to suggestions, I should suggest that we get the floor done before we do anything else."

"Yes. And then I suggest that we choose the chintz," said Julia.

"I like cretonne better than chintz," replied Maudie.

"No, cretonne is like flannelette at fourpence-ha'penny a yard--looks like the loveliest flannel, and you make up your blouse and think you have got a treasure that's going to last you for six weeks without washing. You find out your mistake in about six days, and when you send it to the wash, it comes back as rough as a badger and can never be worn more than once afterwards. No, dear girl, let us have chintz."

"I suppose," said Maudie, "if you want chintz you'll have chintz."

"Well, we'll go up to the High Street to-morrow morning and we'll look at both--"

"Excuse me making so bold," said a voice at the door, "but if I might be allowed to speak to you ladies--"

They both turned with a start. The foreman, politely pressing the back of his hand across his lips, was standing in the hall. "Well?" they said in the same breath.

"If I might make so bold, ladies, as to suggest, our guv'nor is a one-er on chintzes."

"Oh, really?"

"Loose covers is his special'ty--his special'ty." He again passed the back of his hand across his lips. "Thank you very much for the drink, ladies. It was very welcome. If I might make so bold as to--"

"You had better have another," said Julia.

"I'm not saying no, miss. It's very polite of you, and I accepts it as it's offered. If I might make so bold, I would suggest that I just speak to the guv'nor as I go past the head office, and he'd send his book of patterns up in the morning. He could send them up and then you could look at them in the room itself. It's always more satisfactory than seeing them at a distance. It isn't everyone," the foreman went on, "that can hold a scheme of color in the heye and carry it to a shop miles away, and take the exact match of it."

"No," said Maudie, "I suppose not."

"Well, I can," said Julia, with decision. "If there's one thing I can do, it is to carry a scheme of color in my eye; but at the same time you might as well tell Mr. Broxby to send in his book of chintz patterns, and we'll have a look at them. But who shall we get to make them?"

"Makin' loose covers is one of Mr. Broxby's special'ties," said the foreman. He turned and held out his glass that he might have it refilled. "My respects to you, ladies," he said politely, raising his glass towards the two girls, "my respects to you. It isn't often that a man in my position finishes a job with such pleasure as it's been to us fellows to do this 'ere room for you young ladies, and if I can put any little tip in your way, it's a great pleasure to me to do it."

"Thank you," said Julia. "You are very kind. You have done the room beautifully, we are most satisfied. And if you'll tell Mr. Broxby to send us his chintzes to-morrow morning, we can look at them."

Then began another period of waiting. Mr. Broxby arrived himself with the books of patterns. He viewed the great roomy old couch on which for years the girls had played, and which they had, as Julia frankly said, used abominably, and he made one or two suggestions for adding to its comfort at no great outlay of money. And finally they chose a chintz for the curtains of the three windows, and for covers for the couch and the large armchair. The cost thereof was a question into which Mr. Broxby found it difficult to go.

"I couldn't exactly say, Miss Whittaker, what the price will be, but it won't be very much," he remarked. "You see, cretonne is cheaper than chintz, that is why so many people chooses cretonne in preference to the other; but when you come to the question of wear--why, chintz has it all its own way."

"Just what I said," said Julia, "just what I said. Well, now, look here, Maudie, we'll have this chintz, and as to the cost--well, we must leave it to Mr. Broxby's honor that he doesn't ruin us. If you ruin us," she said, "you won't get your bill paid as soon, or nearly as soon, as if you keep the prices down. Our father has given us a sum of money to do this room up with. He pays for the papering, but he gives us a fixed sum of money for everything else, and if you charge us too much you'll have to leave half your bill till next year."

"And who'll pay it then?" asked Maudie.

"Oh, well, you and I will have to pay it."

"I see."

Now Maudie was a careful soul who detested procrastination: at any time she preferred to go out in a pair of extremely dirty gloves rather than procure others by forestalling her next quarter's money (for I must tell you that for several years these girls had had a small allowance paid quarterly which provided them with gloves and ties).

Then there set in another period of waiting. The chintz, like the wall-paper, was not in stock, and on learning this fact the two girls went round and explained to Mr. Broxby that they would just as soon choose another.

"Now, young ladies, if you would allow me to advise you," said Mr. Broxby--"it's the same thing to me, of course--but if you would allow me to advise you, I should say wait and have the chintz that exactly suits your wall-paper. There isn't another chintz in the book that exactly goes with the wall-paper. If you chance on one that clashes with the paper, well, your room is spoilt at once. I'll hurry them on all I know, but I must say that it will give me more satisfaction to make things up with a legitimate end in view."

"There's something in that," said Maudie. "I should wait."

"Very well," said Julia, "but if I have to wait another five weeks, all I can say is, Mr. Broxby, that I shall come every morning and I shall worry you until we do get the covers."

"Young ladies, you will not come too often to please me," said Mr. Broxby, gallantly. At which the two girls laughed, and literally took to their heels and fled.

I won't say that they waited quite five weeks for the chintz, but they did have to wait; and when at length Mr. Broxby announced that he had received the chintz, they had to wait yet a little time longer while the curtains and covers were put together.

"But doesn't it look sweet now it's done?" said Julia. "Isn't it sweet? Yes, it's true they've cost a lot--you're quite right there, Maudie; and they'll make a big hole in our thirty pounds. Of course, we ought to have an Aubusson carpet, but we can't possibly afford that."

"No," said Maudie, shaking her head resolutely, "that is certain, as certain as that one day we shall both die. The best thing we can do is to go for one of those square things we saw at Barker's the other day--'cord squares,' I think they called them."

"I wanted a carpet our feet would sink in," said Julia.

"You can't have it, my dear. Besides, it wouldn't be much in keeping with a girls' room. Have a pretty dark blue cord square. We shall get it for about three pounds. We shall have endless bother with people slipping about and smashing things if we try and make these boards look like parquet."

"You don't slip on parquet as you do on boards," said Julia. "You see, we haven't very much left, and we must have two big basket chairs, a couple of small chairs, and a stool or two; and we must have a writing-table. And then we haven't got any sort of an over-mantel, no sort of a looking-glass, and no pictures, so say nothing of a stand or two to put plants in. I don't see where it is all coming from--still less the piano. Oh, I haven't given up all idea of the piano. That we must squeeze out of our dress allowance."

"You don't think," said Maudie, "that we could put the piano off for another year?"

"No," said Julia, decidedly, "it's no good spoiling the ship for a ha'porth of tar."