PAGE 5
A Matter Of Taste
by
Ella’s delicate eyebrows contracted. ‘I like to be prepared for my surprises, please, George. Tell me now.’
They had turned up one of the quiet streets leading to the hill. They were so near the house that George thought he might abandon further mystery, not to mention that he was only too anxious to reveal his secret.
‘Well, then, Ella, if you must have it,’ he said triumphantly, ‘the house is very nearly ready now–what do you think of that?’
‘Do you mean that–that it is furnished, George?’
‘Papered, painted, decorated, furnished–everything, from top to bottom! I thought that would surprise you, Ella!’
‘I think,’ she answered slowly, ‘you might have told me you were doing it.’
‘What! before it was all done? That would have spoilt it all, dear. I should have written, though, if you hadn’t been coming home so soon. And now it’s finished I must say it looks uncommonly jolly. I’m sure you’ll be pleased with it–it looks quite a different place.’
She tried to smile: ‘And did you do it all yourself, George?’
‘Well, no–not exactly. I flatter myself I know how to see that the work’s properly done, and all that; but there are some things I don’t pretend to be much of a hand at, so I got certain ladies to give me some wrinkles.’
Ella felt relieved. She was disappointed, it is true–hurt, even, at having been deprived of any voice in the matter. She had been looking forward so much to carrying out her pet schemes, to enjoying her friends’ admiration of the wonders wrought by her artistic invention. And she had never thought of George, somehow, as likely to have any strikingly original ideas on the subject of decoration, although she liked him none the less for that.
But it was something that he had had the good sense to take her mother and Flossie into his confidence: she knew she could trust them to preserve him from any serious mistakes.
‘You see,’ said George, half apologetically, ‘I would ever so much rather have waited till you came back, only I couldn’t tell when that would be. I really couldn’t help myself. You’re sure you don’t mind about it? If you only knew how I worked over it, rushing about from one place to another, as soon as I could get away from the office, picking up bits of furniture here and there, standing over those beggars of painters and keeping ’em at it, and working out estimates and seeing foremen and managers and all kinds of chaps! I used to get home dead-tired of an evening; but I didn’t mind that: I felt it was all bringing you nearer to me, darling, and that made everything a pleasure!’
There was such honest affection in his look and voice; he had so evidently intended to please her, and had been in such manifest dread of any further separation from her, that she was completely disarmed.
‘Dear George,’ she said gently, ‘I am so sorry you took all the trouble on yourself; it was very, very good of you to care so much, and I know I shall be delighted with the house.’
‘Well,’ said George, ‘I’m not much afraid about that, because I expect our tastes are pretty much the same in most things.’
They were by this time at the house, and George, after a little fumbling with his as yet unfamiliar latchkey, threw open the door with a flourish and said, ‘There you are, little woman! Walk in and you’ll see what you shall see!’
No sooner was Ella inside the hall than her heart sank: ‘Looks neat and nice, doesn’t it?’ said George cheerfully. ‘You’d almost take that paper for real marble, wouldn’t you? See how well they’ve done those veins. I like this yellowish colour better than green, don’t you? It looks so cool in summer. That’s a good strong hall-lamp–not what you call high art, exactly–but gives a rattling good light, and that’s the main thing. Here, I’ll light it up for you–confound it! they haven’t turned the gas on yet. However, there’s too much sunshine for it to show much, if they had. This linoleum is a capital thing: you might scrub as long as you liked and you’d never get that pattern out!’