"It's going to be lovely," promised Felicia stoutly, "It used to be lovely. Look here," she drew the girl to the window and pointed out across the gleaming river, "that's what you'll see every night from your windows. You won't be in this little room, you'll be in the big room next, the room that used to be my nursery." She wheedled the tired girl into eating a bit. She coaxed her to lie on the bed and watch the stars. She did not talk any more, just listened to sobbing breaths that the girl drew--listened as she sat in the wicker chair with Babiche cuddled in her arms. And presently the girl slept. And Felicia sighed and slept too. Morning was droll and difficult. An enormous bumping and thumping awakened the sleepers. Cramped and dazed from her uncomfortable night in the chair Felicia jumped up startled; drowsy and bewildered in her unaccustomed bed, Dulcie sat up and stared at her. "Whatever is it?" Dulcie stammered. Felicia clapped her hands. "It's the weeds--this is going to be a wonderful, wonderful day, Dulcie, you're going to be so glad--just think! The tailor and the tailor's missus and all of them are going--" They were not only going, they had already started. All day long the old house groaned under their leave-taking. All day long Felicia chattered to Dulcie of her plans of how they should find where the old furniture had gone and bring it back; of how they should make the whole house lovely. Dulcie was shy and silent most of the time, her eyes were still red, she was still numb from her nerve-racking day before, still shamed by the fact that this queer little creature had given her her bed and slept in a chair beside her. Late afternoon found the two of them standing in the empty room that had been the nursery. They had been laughing a little over the absurdity of their situation; the tailor's missus had removed the bed and chair from Mademoiselle's room, and they were furnitureless. But Dulcie was waking up mentally after her day of stupor. "Impractical" as her aunt had proclaimed her, she proved the contrary very quickly. "Steamer chairs," she decided instantly, "I left two steamer chairs and some rugs over on Ella Slocum's back porch--I'll bet we could get a grocery boy to bring them over for us--" "Only what good will it do?" she tramped about the great room restlessly, "It's no use, Miss Day, you might better have let me quit --you've got troubles enough without bothering with me--" "Isn't there room enough?" asked Felicia shyly. "Isn't it big enough?" "It's big enough for the model stand--" she admitted moodily. "It's a good light. I could paint these silly papered walls--" Felicia sighed. Dear old shepherds and shepherdesses! It was not the gathering twilight alone that let them mist away as she looked. "Are they so silly?" she asked. "I didn't know." But the girl did not answer her.