Part 11 (1/2)

”But what about the altary--oh, oratory I mean?” asked Abby, dejectedly.

”There is a piece of muslin in the linen press which you may take to cover the altar,” said her mother; ”but do not attempt to arrange anything more. I will attend to the rest next week. I am sorry to disappoint you and Larry; but, you see, I can not help it.”

She harried away; and the children ran up to the parlor, which was on the second story of the house, to take another look at their precious statue, which had been placed on the marble slab in front of one of the long mirrors. Then they went into the small room which was to be the oratory. The only furniture it contained was the square table which they had brought there the evening before. Abby got the muslin, and began to drape the table to resemble an altar; Larry looking on admiringly, volunteering a suggestion now and then. She succeeded pretty well. Larry praised her efforts; he was prouder than ever of his sister,--although, as he remarked, ”the corners _would_ look a little bunchy, and the cloth was put on just a _teenty_ bit crooked.”

Presently the little girl paused, took several pins out of her mouth--which seemed to be the most available pincus.h.i.+on,--and glanced disconsolately at the pine boards of the floor.

”What is the use of fixing the altar before the floor is covered!” she said. ”I am almost sure I could put down the carpet myself.”

”Oh, no, you couldn't!” said Larry. ”You'd be sure to hammer your fingers instead of the tacks--girls always do. But if you get the carpet all spread out, _I'll_ nail it down for you.”

The roll of carpet stood in the corner. It had been partially ripped apart, and there were yards and yards of it; for it had covered the parlor, which was a large room. Mrs. Clayton intended to have it made over for the dining-room, and estimated that there would be enough left for the oratory. She had not thought it necessary to explain these details to Abby, however.

”We'll do it,” declared the latter. ”Mother said to wait, but I don't believe she'll care.”

”Course she won't,” agreed Larry.

Both the children felt that what they had decided upon was not exactly right,--that it would be better to observe strictly their mother's instructions. But, like many people who argue themselves into the delusion that what they want to do is the best thing to be done, Abby tried to compromise with the ”still small voice” which warned her not to meddle, by the retort: ”Oh, it will spare mother the trouble! And she'll be glad to have it finished.” As for Larry, the opportunity to pound away with the hammer and make as much noise as he pleased, was a temptation hard to resist.

Abby opened the roll.

”What did mother mean by saying she thought she could get enough out of this carpet to cover the floor?” said the little girl, with a laugh.

”She must have been very absent-minded; for there's las.h.i.+n's of it here, as Delia would say.”

”Oh, my, yes--las.h.i.+n's!” echoed Larry.

Abby was what is called ”a go-ahead” young person. She was domestic in her tastes, and, for her years, could make herself very useful about the house when she chose. Now, therefore, she had no diffidence about her ability to carry out her undertaking. And Larry, although he frequently reminded her that she did not know _every_thing, had a flattering confidence in her capacity.

”I'll have it done in less than no time,” she said, running to get her mother's large scissors.

Click, click went the shears as she slashed into the carpet, taking off breadth after breadth, without attempting to match the pattern, and with little regard for accuracy of measurement. Instead of laying it along the length of the room, she chose to put it crosswise, thus cutting it up into any number of short pieces.

”No matter about its not being sewed,” she went on; ”you can nail it together, can't you, Larry?”

”Oh, yes!” said Larry.

The more hammering the better for him. He hunted up the hammer and two papers of tacks, and as fast as Abby cut he nailed.

Delia was unusually busy; for it was house-cleaning time, and she was getting the diningroom ready for the new carpet. Therefore, although she heard the noise upstairs, she gave herself no concern about it; supposing that Larry was merely amusing himself, for he was continually tinkering at one thing or another.

By and by Larry remarked: ”Say, Abby, you've got two of these pieces too short.”

Abby went over and looked at them. ”Gracious, so I have!” she said.

”Well, put them aside, and I'll cut two more.”

Click went the scissors again, and the carpet was still further mutilated. Then, as a narrow strip was required, a breadth was slit down the centre. Finally the boards were covered.

”There!” she cried triumphantly. ”It is all planned. Now, I'll nail.”

Larry demurred at first, but Abby was imperious. Moreover, the constant friction of the handle of the hammer had raised a blister in the palm of his hand. Abby had an ugly red welt around her thumb, caused by the resistance of the scissors; for it had been very hard work to cut the heavy carpet. But she did not complain, for she felt that she was a martyr to industry.