"
"Oh, that?" broke in Sara, as if Miss Prue had touched on something
sacred.
"Yes, just that: we all have too much veneration for our spare rooms.
Now, answer me truly, of what earthly use is it to you?"
"Why, none; but mother's best things"--
"Will lie there, given over to spiders, dampness, and moths, till they
fall to pieces. Use them; that's what they were made for, and, so far,
they haven't fulfilled their purpose in life much better than some of
the rest of us," smiling at her own conceit. "Get them out, air them,
and use them; then, if needs be, and you could get boarders enough to
warrant it, you could have the roof raised, and make that loft into two
nice rooms; but that is far ahead yet. Take two people first, for your
spare room, then get Mrs. Updyke and Mrs. Filcher to lodge a few more,
and you board them. Isn't that a scheme?" with a triumphant laugh.
"If I can do it; but I'm afraid, almost."
"So am I!" with a funny look. These sudden changes of base were a
characteristic of Miss Prue's; perhaps she believed, with Emerson, that
"unchanging consistency is the mark of a stagnant soul." "But what else
is there for you here, safe at home?"
"Nothing," discouragedly. "If there was only a canning factory, I could
work in that.
Pages:
118
119
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142