Lilly sprang between them, caught hold of her mother, who fought desperately, and called to the men to leave, telling them everything would be arranged. So the men took themselves off.
Her mother's wrath now descended upon Lilly.
"If you hadn't come," she screamed, "I would have gotten hold of the receipt, and everything would have been all right. Now I have to go there to-morrow again, while if you hadn't mixed in, the furniture could have been unpacked in the new apartment this very day."
Mrs. Czepanek laughed. How could Lilly be so stupid? Did she think her mother had been going about idle all that time?
Then everything was revealed. The nine-room apartment had already been rented, and all they needed to do was move in. Even the plate had already been made. When hung it would act like magic. So much for the outside. But hadn't she self-sacrificingly strained every nerve on the inside equipment, too? She wasn't going to describe the furniture, for it might make her angry again, but--
She had bought curtains for twelve windows--the pattern a Chinese lady and a palm leaf. And six rugs, good ones, because students usually have a pretty heavy tramp, and cheap stuff would wear out like chiffon. Big English wash basins with gold flowers, the pattern exactly matching the pattern of the ten stands. Unfortunately the dishes were not ready for delivery because it always took three or four weeks to have the monogram burnt in. But they would have to have something to eat from, so for the meantime she had bought a cheaper set--for eighteen people--everything thoroughly refined and respectable. She had been very clever and very careful in the entire matter.
While engaged in this description, Mrs. Czepanek walked about the centre-table with long shambling steps. Her small eyes, with the traces of many sleepless hours upon them, glistened and gleamed, and beneath the false glowed the genuine red on her haggard cheeks.
Lilly, who was beginning to be a bit uneasy, ventured to inquire concerning the payments. Her mother simply laughed at her.
"You are either a lady and impress the tradespeople, or you are not a lady. I think that I, the wife of Kilian Czepanek, conductor of the singing society, am thoroughly entitled to be treated with respect."