"I knew you would approve of it!" she exulted. "Well, it's simply this: The poor little place has got so shabby that I'm almost ashamed to be seen going into it, for one; and want to raise money enough to give it a new coat of paint outside and put on some kind of pretty paper, of an ecclesiastical pattern, on the inside. I declare, those staring white walls, with the cracks in the plastering zigzagging every which way, distract me so that I can't put my mind on the sermon. Don't you think that paper, say of a gothic design, would be a great improvement? I'm sure it would; and it's Mr. Twelvemough's idea, too."
I learned this fact now for the first time; but, with Mrs. Makely's warning eye upon me, I could not say so, and I made what sounded to me like a gothic murmur of acquiescence. It sufficed for Mrs. Makely's purpose, at any rate, and she went on, without giving the Altrurian a chance to say what he thought the educational effect of wall paper would be:
"Well, the long and short of it is that we want you to make this money for us, Mr. Homos."
"I?" He started in a kind of horror. "My dear lady, I never made any money in my life! I should think it wrong to make money!"
