Nothing, however, could take the curse of ugliness off the
staring gray walls of the room, or from the horrible turkey-red
and white canton-flannel quilt that bedecked the bed. Nan longed
to spill the contents of her ink bottle over that hideous
coverlet, but did not dare.
The effort to make the big east room look less like a barn made
Nan feel better in her mind. It was still dreary, it must be
confessed. There were a dozen things she wished she could do to
improve it. There were nothing but paper shades at the windows.
Even a simple scrim curtain-----
And, in thinking of this, Nan raised her eyes to one window to
see a face pressed close against the glass, and two rolling,
crablike eyes glaring in at her.
"Mercy!" ejaculated Nan Sherwood. "What is the matter with that
child's eyes? They'll drop out of her head!"
She ran to the window, evidently startling the peeper quite as
much as she had been startled herself. The girl, who was about
Nan's own age, fell back from the pane, stumbled in the big,
men's boots she wore, and ungracefully sprawled in the snow upon
her back. She could not get away before Nan had the window open.
The sash was held up by a notched stick. Nan put her head and
shoulders out into the frosty air and stared down at the
prostrate girl, who stared up at her in return.
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