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Richmond, Grace S. (Grace Smith), 1866-1959

"Mrs. Red Pepper"

Its browns and blues and ivories
wrought out an exquisite harmony. The furniture was simple but solid, the
roomy high-backed davenport luxurious with its many pillows. The walls
showed a few good pictures--how good, it might not be that Red Pepper
fully understood. But he did understand, with every sense, that it was
such a room as a man might look upon and be proud to call his home.
But he was silent so long that Ellen looked up at him, to make sure that
there was no displeasure in his face. Instead she found there deeper
feeling than she expected. He returned her look, and she discovered that
he was not finding it easy to tell her what he thought of it all. She led
him to the couch and drew him down beside her. He put his arm about her,
and with her head upon his shoulder the pair sat for some time in a
silence which Ellen would not end. But at length, looking into the fire,
his head resting against hers, Burns broke the stillness.
"I suppose I'm an impressionable chap," he said, "but I wasn't prepared
for just this. I knew it would be a beautiful room, if you saw to it, but
I had no possible notion how beautiful it would be. There is just one
thing about it that breaks me up a bit. Perhaps you won't understand, but
I can't help wishing I could have done the work for you instead of you
for me.


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