Page:Stella Dallas, a novel (IA stelladallasnove00prou).pdf/51

Rh not a scrap of nickel in sight—everything all smooth shining porcelain, like the inside of a beautiful china cup, Laurel thought—Mrs. Morrison said, "Here's the washcloth, and here's the soap, and here's the towel. Use them, and then come into this room. It's mine. I'm going to have you in with me. And take off your things. Put them on the bed next to the wall—your bed—then come downstairs. And don't be long. I'll hurry down ahead and get your father started on his tea. He's got to go right back to town." And she left Laurel.

Very carefully Laurel followed her directions, gazing wonderingly about her as she did so, examining various details with investigating nose and finger-tips; sniffing the soap; ever so cautiously opening the door of the medicine chest; touching with a gentle forefinger the silk window-hangings in the bedroom; touching with the same gentle forefinger its ivory-colored walls; the shade on the lamp on the table between the beds. It was made of real filet! So, too, were the curious little pillows on the beds. (Laurel had never seen tiny pillows like that on grown-up beds.) So, too, was the bureau-scarf, and the tidy on the back of the big winged-chair by the window. All real filet! And just the simplest little piece of filet cost six-fifty in the neckwear department!

Standing in the center of the bedroom, Laurel drew in a deep breath, and gazed about her. What a lovely bedroom it was! Yellowish—like pale sunshine. She decided that it was lovelier even than her present luxurious apartment at the hotel. It was lovelier than any apartment in any hotel she had