“I understand that,” said Mr. Fairfield; “and so, with my advantages of age and experience, and your own natural good taste, I think we shall accomplish this thing successfully.  Now, first, as to what we have on hand.”

“Why, we haven’t anything on hand,” said Patty; “at least, I have a few pictures and books, and the afghan grandma’s knitting for me; but that’s all.”

“You reckon without your host,” said her father, smiling.  “I possess some few objects of value, and during the past year I have added to my collection in anticipation of the time when we should have our own home.”

“Oh, papa!” cried Patty; “have you a whole lot of new furniture that I don’t know about?”

“Yes,” said Mr. Fairfield; “except, that, instead of being new, it is mostly old.  I had opportunities in the South to pick up bits of fine old mahogany, and I have a number of really good pieces that will help to make Boxley Hall attractive.”

“What are they, papa?  Tell me all about them.  I can’t wait another minute!”

“To begin with, child, I have several heirlooms; the old sideboard that was your grandfather Fairfield’s, and several old bureaus and tables that came from the Fairfield estate.  Then I have, also, two or three beautiful book-cases, and an old desk for our library; and to-day we will hunt up some sort of a big roomy table that will do to go with them.”

“Let’s make the library the nicest room in the house, papa.”

“It will make itself that, if you give it half a chance, though we’ll do all we can to help.  But I’m so prosaic I would like to have special attention paid to the comforts of the dining-room; and as to your own bedroom, Patty, I want you to see to it that it fulfills exactly your ideal of what a girl’s room ought to be.”

“Oh, I know just how I want that; almost exactly like my room at Aunt Alice’s, but with a few more of the sort of things I had in my room at Aunt Isabel’s.  I do like pretty things, papa.”

“That’s right, my child, I’m glad you do; and I think your idea of pretty things is not merely a taste for highfalutin gimcracks.”

“No, I don’t think it is,” said Patty slowly; “but, all the same, you’d better keep pretty close to me when I pick out the traps for my room.  Do you know, papa, I think Aunt Isabel wants to help us furnish our house.  She wrote that she would meet us in New York some time.”

“That’s kind of her,” said Mr. Fairfield; “but, do you know, it just seems to me that we’ll be able to manage it by ourselves.  Our house is not of the era of Queen Isabella, but of the Princess Patricia.”

“That sounds like Aunt Isabel.  They always called me Patricia there.  Don’t you think, papa, now that I’m getting so grown up, I ought to be called Patricia?  Patty is such a baby name.”

“Patty is good enough for me,” said Mr. Fairfield.  “If you want to be called Patricia, you must get somebody else to do it.  I dare say you could hire somebody for a small sum per week to call you Patricia for a given number of times every day.”