She
visited certain shops that she knew of--queer little, quaint,
out-of-the-way shops--quite pokey little places; but from their depths
she managed to extract one or two round tables, one or two
easy-chairs, a few brackets, which could be easily converted into
book-shelves, a certain sofa, with not too hard a back, a couple of
fenders, some fire-irons, some cups and saucers, some dinner plates.
These and a few more necessary articles she bought for what would have
seemed a ridiculously low figure to any one who was not in her secret.
The furniture was all conveyed to her neat little house that
afternoon, and there it was absolutely pounced upon by her willing and
hard-working servant who washed it, and scrubbed it, and rubbed it,
and polished it; and, finally, Miss Egerton purchased bright chintz,
and slipped it over the ugly little chairs, and covered up the
antiquated old sofa, and that very night a certain amount of her work
was got through, and the attics began already to look habitable.
"I mean to do a great deal more," thought Miss Egerton; "fortunately
the paper is fresh and the paint clean; but I must put up two or three
pictures, and I shall fill these book-shelves with the books I used to
love when I was young.
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