“It’s all damned fine, old lady, but I’ve no ideas. If I’m paid to say a room’s bad, I’ll say it’s poisonous. But when they say, ‘Very well, my bright and bonny. Poisonous it is. Now show us a better ’ole’—I—I shall come all unstuck.”
“Not you,” said Blanche. “Besides, you mustn’t criticize. Don’t say anything is poisonous, for goodness’ sake. We don’t want to be hauled up for libel. The existing decoration you entirely ignore. You simply walk into a room. Don’t slide in. Stroll in and take a look round. If it isn’t panelled you’re off. Panelling always looks well. Then you——”
“Then you decide it’s too dark. It probably is. So you make a note for the walls to be done in canary.”
“There you are,” said Titus. “It’s nothing to you. I should never have thought of canary in fifty years. Any fool can look at a room. The thing is to think of canary. I can think of a red or a green, but——”
“What’s the matter with red?” said Mrs. Cheviot. “A rich wine colour. Think of a library done in the colour of port. What goes with port?”
“Good. Port-coloured walls—mahogany doors with massive silver handles—glass mantelpiece—biscuit-coloured ceiling and paint-work, and there you are. What could be better?”
“That’s an idea,” said Cheviot. “Reproductions of familiar circumstances. Golf, for instance. Nice, soft green walls—sand-yellow doors and windows—white ceiling checked—mantelpiece of burnished steel. What? Oh, an’ two or three texts.”
“Simply maddening,” cried Blanche, laughing. “And you say you’ve no ideas.” She raised her brown eyes to heaven. “And now that’s settled. By the way, never open your mouth while you’re in the place. Always wait till——”
“Don’t you worry,” said Titus. “I don’t want to be assaulted before my time. No _viva voces_ for me. They can bite the opinion if they like, but——”
“They’re more likely to have it framed,” said Mrs. Cheviot.
At the end of three weeks Blanche and Titus, who were booked up for six, put up their fees, charging seventy guineas a room, if the house was in town, and regretfully refusing to visit the country unless they were asked to survey at least three rooms.
Business at 68, Old Bond Street, actually increased.
The stalls began to be constantly occupied by patrons who were waiting to occupy the bench. Among them was Mrs. Drinkabeer Stoat, who, somewhat disconcerted by the reflection that, if necessary, about five thousand people could prove that the cipher upon her drawing-room ceiling had cost but fifty guineas, hastened to request that her hall and dining-room might be surveyed forthwith.