“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.

At last the work was completed; and, flushed and tired, with her fingers bruised from frequent miscalculated blows from the hammer, and her knuckles rubbed and tingling, she paused to admire the result of her toil.  The carpeting was a curious piece of patchwork certainly, but the children were delighted with their achievement.

The lunch bell rang.

“Don’t say anything about it to Delia,” cautioned Abby.

Larry agreed that it would be as well not to mention the subject.  They did not delay long at the meal, but hastened back to their self-imposed task.

“Now let’s hurry up and finish the altar,” said Abby.

Having completed the adornment of the table, by throwing over the muslin a fine lace curtain, from the linen press also, and decking it with some artificial flowers found in her mother’s wardrobe, Abby brought the statue from the parlor, and set it upon the shrine which she and Larry had taken so much trouble to prepare.  Larry placed before the lovely image his little vase containing a small bunch of dandelions he had gathered in the yard.  He was particularly fond of dandelions.  Abby had nothing to offer but her May wreath, which she laid beside it.  But the decorations appeared too scanty to satisfy her.