I cannot and never do recommend either a terra-cotta or real green wall; the latter is such a nondescript and uncertain colour that the use of it in the entrance appears to me to strike the keynote to the character of the inhabitants, who are thus pronounced uncertain in their ideas, and not particularly satisfactory, and there are so many ‘builder’s horrors’ in the shape of dull, gloomy terra-cotta papers that inexperienced folks are apt to buy simply because the pure word ‘terra-cotta’ implies to a certain class of mind that the paper is artistic and high art, that I am impelled to taboo terra-cotta altogether at once; but if Liberty’s ‘tulip’ and ‘marigold’ damasque papers are bought a terra-cotta wall may be indulged in, though I can never pronounce this as totally satisfactory as are the red, blue, and yellow and brown walls. If the terra-cotta is selected, I advise ivory paint; if that cannot be indulged in, a shade of dull green should be chosen to harmonise with the terra-cotta, and the dado should be either green matting or else of green and gold (_dull_ green and gold, please!) Japanese leather paper; the stair carpet should be green, and so should the draperies and ceiling paper. A green wall could be arranged by using Liberty’s green and silver ‘tulip’ damasque, at 2_s._, and dull green paint, and a pale green matting dado, Pither’s dark red carpet, and dark red draperies, the red and cream ‘berry’ for ceiling, or else terra-cotta draperies, and the ‘Stella’ stair carpet from Wallace. This hall would be artistic; but a cooler effect, and one that would be specially adapted for a hot hall, one into which much sun pours, would be obtained by using the green and silver paper, sea-green paint, and all pale green draperies, and a green carpet, using white and green muslin on the windows, and any white and green china to hold flowers and plants that one can find. Once the papering and painting are done and the stair-carpets are down and the draperies are up, serious attention must be given to the trifles which appear scarcely worth seeing to, but on which depend so much, and which I have spoken about in the beginning of this chapter; for it is of no use to put charming papers on our walls if we leave hideous glass in the doors, or allow our staircase windows to glare at us with strips of yellow, blue, and red glass for edges round a starred centre, in a manner found even in these artistic days in houses where people should presumably know better; and I therefore repeat my advice to my readers to look out for the trifles, and never to rest until all they possess has some beauty to excuse its existence.