"There must be a table for the Log-Fire Room," Jean told her husband,
"and a fire-bench, not too high, and a big chair for you, and another
chair for me--"
"And a stool for your little feet--."
"And a desk for you, Derry."
"And an oval mirror with a gold frame, for me to see your face in,
Jean-Joan--"
Then there was a four-poster bed with pineapples, and an Adams screen, an
old brass-bound chest, the most adorable things in Sheffield and crystal,
and to crown it all, a picture of George Washington--a print, faintly
colored, with the country's coat of arms carved on the frame.
Yet not one thing did they buy except a quite sumptuous and splendid
marriage coffer which suggested itself at once as the only wedding
present for Emily.
The price took Jean's breath away. "But, dearest--"
"Nothing is too good for Emily, Jean-Joan."
* * * * * *
That night Derry drew a picture of the house in Jean's memory book.
"I'll put a garden in front--"
"How can you put in a garden, Derry, when there isn't one?"
She wore a lace robe and a lace cap, and there were pink ribbons threaded
in, and her cheeks were pink.
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