shutters six days out of the seven, and a general air of go-to-
meeting solemnity pervaded the room. Merry longed to make it
pretty and pleasant, but her mother would allow of no change
there, so the girl gave up her dreams of rugs and hangings, fine
pictures and tasteful ornaments, and dutifully aired, dusted, and
shut up this awful apartment once a week, privately resolving that,
if she ever had a parlor of her own, it should not be as dismal as a
tomb.
The dining-room was a very different place, for here Merry had
been allowed to do as she liked, yet so gradual had been the
change, that she would have found it difficult to tell how it came
about. It seemed to begin with the flowers, for her father kept his
word about the “posy pots,” and got enough to make quite a little
conservatory in the bay-window, which was sufficiently large for
three rows all round, and hanging-baskets overhead. Being
discouraged by her first failure, Merry gave up trying to have
things nice everywhere, and contented herself with making that
one nook so pretty that the boys called it her “bower.” Even busy
Mrs. Grant owned that plants were not so messy as she expected,
and the fanner was never tired of watching “little daughter” as she
sat at work there, with her low chair and table full of books.
The lamp helped, also, for Merry set up her own, and kept it so
well trimmed that it burned clear and bright, shining on the green
arch of ivy overhead, and on the nasturtium vines framing the old
glass, and peeping at their gay little faces, and at the pretty young
girl, so pleasantly that first her father came to read his paper by it,
then her mother slipped in to rest on the lounge in the corner, and
finally the boys hovered about the door as if the “settin’-room” had
grown more attractive than the kitchen.
But the open fire did more than anything else to win and hold them
all, as it seldom fails to do when the black demon of an airtight
stove is banished from the hearth. After the room was cleaned till
it shone, Merry begged to have the brass andirons put in, and
offered to keep them as bright as gold if her mother would
consent. So the great logs were kindled, and the flames went
dancing up the chimney as if glad to be set free from their prison.
It changed the whole room like magic, and no one could
resist the desire to enjoy its cheery comfort. The farmer’s
three-cornered leathern chair soon stood on one side, and mother’s
rocker on the other, as they toasted their feet and dozed or chatted
in the pleasant warmth.
The boys’ slippers were always ready on the hearth; and when the
big boots were once off, they naturally settled down about the
table, where the tall lamp, with its pretty shade of pressed autumn
leaves, burned brightly, and the books and papers lay ready to their
hands instead of being tucked out of sight in the closet. They were
beginning to see that “Merry’s notions” had some sense in them,
since they were made comfortable, and good-naturedly took some
pains to please her in various ways. Tom brushed his hair and
washed his hands nicely before he came to table. Dick tried to
lower his boisterous laughter, and Harry never smoked in the
sitting-room. Even Roxy expressed her pleasure in seeing “things
kind of spruced up,” and Merry’s gentle treatment of the
hard-working drudge won her heart entirely.
The girl was thinking of these changes as she watered her flowers,
dusted the furniture, and laid the fire ready for kindling; and, when
all was done, she stood a minute to enjoy the pleasant room, full of
spring sunshine, fresh air, and exquisite order. It seemed to give
her heart for more distasteful labors, and she fell to work at the
pies as cheerfully as if she liked it.
Mrs. Grant was flying about the kitchen, getting the loaves of
brown and white bread ready for the big oven. Roxy’s voice came