He listened, while Pauline explained, really listened, instead of merely seeming to.  “It does appear an excellent idea,” he said; “but why should it be Hilary only, who is to try to see Winton with new eyes this summer?  Suppose we were all to do so?”

Pauline clapped her hands softly.  “Then you’ll help us?  And we’ll all pretend.  Maybe Uncle Paul’s thought isn’t such a bad one, after all.”

“Paul always believed in developing the opportunities nearest hand,” Mr. Shaw answered.  He stroked the head Towser laid against his knee.  “Your mother and I will be the gainers—­if we keep all our girls at home, and still achieve the desired end.”

Pauline glanced up quickly.  How could she have thought him unheeding—­indifferent?

“Somehow, I think it will work out all right,” she said.  “Anyhow, we’re going to try it, aren’t we.  Mother Shaw?  Patience thinks it the best idea ever, there’ll be no urging needed there.”

Pauline went up to bed that night feeling strangely happy.  For one thing the uncertainty was over, and if they set to work to make this summer full of interest, to break up the monotony and routine that Hilary found so irksome, the result must be satisfactory.  And lastly, there was the comforting conviction, that whatever displeasure her father had felt at first, at her taking the law into her own hands in such unforeseen fashion, had disappeared now; and he was not going to stay “outside of things,” that was sure.

The next morning, as soon as breakfast was over, Pauline ran up-stairs to the spare room.  She threw open the shutters of the four windows, letting in the fresh morning air.  The side windows faced west, and looked out across the pleasant tree-shaded yard to the church; those at the front faced south, overlooking the broad village street.

In the bright sunlight, the big square room stood forth in all its prim orderliness.  “It is ugly,” Pauline decided, shaking her head disapprovingly, but it had possibilities.  No room, with four such generous windows and—­for the fire-board must come out—­such a wide deep fireplace, could be without them.

She turned, as her mother came in, duly attended by Patience.  “It is hideous, isn’t it, mother?  The paper, I mean—­and the carpet isn’t much better.  It did very well, I suppose, for the visiting ministers—­probably they’re too busy thinking over their sermons to notice—­but for Hilary—­”

Mrs. Shaw smiled.  “Perhaps you are right, dear.  As to the unattractiveness of the paper—­”

“We must repaper—­that’s sure; plain green, with a little touch of color in the border, and, oh, Mother Shaw, wouldn’t a green and white matting be lovely?”

“And expensive, Pauline.”

“It wouldn’t take all the twenty-five, I’m sure.  Miranda’ll do the papering, I know.  She did the study last year.  Mother, couldn’t we have Jane in for the washing and ironing this week, and let Miranda get right at this room?  I’ll help with the ironing, too.”