would be nice to be in a central position, and not have
_too_ far to go," said Hope wistfully; and her eldest sister, looking at
her golden locks and sweet pink-and-white face, came to a sudden
determination.

"We will take the flat. It's no use doing things by halves. We must
hope to save the money in travelling expenses and lunches. I will write
to the agent and settle it to-night."

So the flat was taken, and the question of furniture was the next to
come upon the tapis. For the larger articles there could be no
accommodation; they must be sold for what they would bring; but even
without them there was an incredible number of possessions with which it
seemed impossible to part. Curtains were faded, carpets so darned and
mended as to be incapable of removal, but Edgar Charrington had been
picking up artistic treasures all his life, and the rooms were crowded
with quaint, old-world furniture. There was a Chinese cabinet, shaped
like a pagoda, with coloured Chinese figures standing in the niches. It
would take up more room than could be spared, but who could bear to part
with it, remembering the fascination of those figures to the infant
mind, the later joy of turning over the contents of the daintily fitting
drawers, and sniffing the sweet, musty odour? There was an oak-framed
picture of a church, with a real clock fitted into the steeple. A place
for that must be found somewhere, or life would be robbed of one of its
oldest associations. There was a black silhouette picture of
Great-great-aunt Martha riding on a pillion; and another of Grandfather
and Grandmother Charrington, with a family of six little Charringtons,
clad in _decollete_ dresses, spencers, and pantaloons. What Goth or
Vandal could find it in his heart to part with them? There was a
collection of old china, of pewter, of old beaten silver; and such
stacks of pictures, framed and unframed, as were quite alarming to
count.

"What shall we do with them? Shall we pack half away in chests and ask
the vicar to store them in his loft? He would be only too glad to keep
them for us. It seems absurd to take such a collection. The place will
look like a museum," cried Philippa, in despair; but the idea seemed to
commend itself rather than otherwise to her ambitious young sisters.

"Just what it ought to look, as a temple of the Muses. No use
pretending to be artistic against a commonplace background. Let us make
our rooms as striking, and unu