“Ah, well, then, if there isn’t, we must see what we can do with these, and summon all the good fairies to our aid,” said Mary.  “There’s your little cabinet-maker, John, will look over the things, and furbish them up; there’s that broken arm of the chair must be mended, and everything revarnished; then I have found such a lovely rep, of just the richest shade of maroon, inclining to crimson, and when we come to cover the lounges and arm-chairs and sofas and ottomans all alike, you know they will be quite another thing.”

“Trust you for that, Mary!  By-the-by, I’ve found a nice little woman, who has worked on upholstery, who will come in by the day, and be the hands that shall execute the decrees of your taste.”

“Yes, I am sure we shall get on capitally.  Do you know that I’m almost glad we can’t get new things? it’s a sort of enterprise to see what we can do with old ones.”

“Now, you see, Mary,” said John, seating himself on a lime-cask which the plasterers had left, and taking out his memorandum-book, “you see, I’ve calculated this thing all over; I’ve found a way by which I can make our rooms beautiful and attractive without a cent expended on new furniture.”

“Well, let’s hear.”

“Well, my way is short and simple.  We must put things into our rooms that people will look at, so that they will forget to look at the furniture, and never once trouble their heads about it.  People never look at furniture so long as there is anything else to look at; just as Napoleon, when away on one of his expeditions, being told that the French populace were getting disaffected, wrote back, ’Gild the dome des Invalides’ and so they gilded it, and the people, looking at that, forgot everything else.”

“But I’m not clear yet,” said Mary, “what is coming of this rhetoric.”

“Well, then, Mary, I’ll tell you.  A suit of new carved black-walnut furniture, severe in taste and perfect in style, such as I should choose at David and Saul’s, could not be got under three hundred dollars, and I haven’t the three hundred to give.  What, then, shall we do?  We must fall back on our resources; we must look over our treasures.  We have our proof cast of the great glorious head of the Venus di Milo; we have those six beautiful photographs of Rome, that Brown brought to us; we have the great German lithograph of the San Sisto Mother and Child, and we have the two angel-heads, from the same; we have that lovely golden twilight sketch of Heade’s; we have some sea-photographs of Bradford’s; we have an original pen-and-ink sketch by Billings; and then, as before, we have ‘our picture.’  What has been the use of our watching at the gates and waiting at the doors of Beauty all our lives, if she hasn’t thrown us out a crust now and then, so that we might have it for time of need?  Now, you see, Mary, we must make the toilet of our rooms just as a pretty woman makes hers when money runs low, and she sorts and freshens her ribbons,