Mr. Marcy looked at the furniture in question, stared at the walls, then
at the rug on the polished floor. The rug held his attention for two long
minutes, then he glanced sharply at his daughter.

"The colourings of that rug are very good, don't you think?" she asked
with composure. "It will last until Anthony can afford a better one."

Mr. Marcy turned significantly toward the door of the dining-room, and
Juliet led him through. He surveyed the room in silence, laying a hand
upon a chair back; then looked suddenly down at the chair and brought his
eyeglasses to bear upon it.

"The furniture was made by a country cabinet-maker who charged country
prices for doing it. Tony rubbed in a very thin stain and rubbed the wood
in oil afterward till it got this soft polish."

The visitor looked incredulous, but he accepted the explanation with a
polite though exceedingly slight smile. Then he was taken to inspect the
kitchen. From here he was led through the pantry back to the living-room,
and so upstairs. He looked, still silently, in at the door of each room,
exquisite in its dainty readiness for occupancy. As he studied the
blue-and-white room his daughter observed that he retained less of the air
of the connoisseur than he had elsewhere exhibited. She had shown him this
place last with artful intent. No room in his own homes of luxury could
appeal to him with more of beauty than was visible here.

When Mr. Marcy reached the living-room again he found himself placed
gently but insistently in the easiest chair the room afforded, close by an
open window through which floated all the soft odours of country air
blowing lightly across apple orchards and gardens of old-fashioned
flowers. His daughter, bringing from the ingle seat a plump cushion,
dropped upon it at his feet. But instead of beginning any sort of argument
she laid her arm upon his knee, and her head down upon her arm, and became
as still as a kitten who has composed itself for sleep. Only through the
contact of the warm young arm, her father could feel that she was alive
and waiting for his speech.

When he spoke at last it was with grave quiet, in a gentler tone than that
which he had used the day before in his own library.

"You helped Anthony furnish this house?"

"Yes, father."

"Do you mind telling me how much you had at your disposal?"

"Five hundred dollars." Juliet maintained her position without moving, and
her face was out of sight.

"Did t