"All right," said Mother. "Just select it for me, will you, Chet? Never mind about the samples."
"You going to put her in there?" I asked.
"Yes. I'd give her the guest-chamber, only it's north exposure, and would be dismal in winter; and besides, the furnace isn't to be depended upon for that room;—but the southwest room is all right, only the clothes-press is so small," and she shook her head. "But she'll manage all right," she added.
"When's she coming?" I asked.
"The sixth of April."
I didn't wait for any more, but went on upstairs to have a look at the room and see where the desk would go best. I hadn't tried to picture the girl at all, for fear that she would be in some way different, and it might make it harder,—and I'd made up my mind to be just as decent as I could
When I went into the room, it some way didn't look good to me. Mother had been using it for a sewing room, and there were a lot of boxes and baskets setting round. It was awfully small, too. I went and put my head into the clothes-press,
