Mrs. Jenkins, moved to
memories long dormant of the home of her youth, suggested blinds instead
of window-shades, but the Boarder after much figuring proved adamantine
in resistance to this temptation.
Lily Rose was the only one who made no suggestions. Anything the Boarder
might construct in the way of a nesting place was beautiful in her eyes.
"She'd be too sorter modist-like to tell me if she was sot on any
perticler thing about the new place," he confided wistfully to Amarilly,
"You're so sharp I wish you'd kinder hint around and find out what she
wants. Jest put out some feelers."
Amarilly diplomatically proceeded to put out "feelers," and after much
maneuvering joyously imparted to the Boarder the information that Lily
Rose loved to look at the one solitary tree that adorned the Jenkins
lot, because to her it meant "the country."
"So that's the way she loves to look out," informed Amarilly, "and, you
see there isn't any window on that side of your rooms."
"There shall be one," declared the Boarder firmly.
"Couldn't you make it a bay?" again coaxed Amarilly, "It's on the side
the sun comes in most, and the doctor said Lily Rose should get all the
sunlight she could. If she could sit in that bay window sunny days next
winter it would be better than medicine for her."
The Boarder sighed.
"Don't tempt me, Amarilly. There ain't a cent more I kin squeeze out."
"I'll think out a way," thought Amarilly confidently.
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