"Never! You don't seem to understand the significance of my oath. When a pilgrim of old swore to put on sackcloth and travel to some distant shrine, he didn't say he would not go to the expense of sackcloth since he had plenty of velvet suits on hand, did he now? No! He went and bought some sackcloth if he didn't happen to have any in the house and gave his velvet suits to the poor or had his hand-maidens pack them up in frankincense and myrrh or something until he got back----"
"All right! All right! But please don't give away anything to the poor. If Cousin Lizzie should hear of your doing such a thing she would certainly say: 'Charity begins at home.'"
"I won't give them away if you think I shouldn't, but I'd like to put temptation out of my reach. I hope we can get off to the mountains real soon as I am sure I have no desire to flaunt my penance in the face of the Richmond public. Don't you think, Douglas, that I might have the fifty-nine cents that is in the bank so things will balance better, and with fifty-nine cents I can get three pair of sixteen-and-two-third-cent stockings? I'll bring back the nine cents change." Helen was quite solemn in her request, but Douglas was forced to laugh at her lugubrious countenance.
"Yes, dear, if you really feel so strongly about the cotton stockings. Haven't you any money at all in your purse? I have a little, I believe."
"Well, I never thought of that! Sure I have!" and Helen sprang out of bed, where they were still lolling while the above conversation was going on, and hunted wildly in a very much mussed drawer for her silver mesh bag. "Hurrah! Three paper dollars and a pile of chicken feed silver! I can get cotton stockings for a centipede with that much money."
It was a very pretty room that Douglas and Helen Carter shared. Robert Carter had brought to bear all the experience he had gained in building other persons' houses to make his own house perfect. It was not a very large house but every detail had been thought out so not one brick was amiss. Convenience and Beauty were not sacrificed to one another but went hand in hand. The girls loved their room with its dainty pink paper and egg-shell paint. They had not been in the house long enough for the novelty to wear off, as it was only about a year old. As Douglas lay in her luxurious bed while Helen, being up in search of money, took first bath, she thought of the bitterness of having strangers occupy their room. How often she had lain in that soft, comfortable nest and fancied that it must be like the heart of a pink rose. And the charming private bath-room must be given up, too.