Читать книгу The Brother of a Hero онлайн

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And Rodney, who had just seated himself uncomfortably on the edge of a chair, arose and followed. The room, he had to acknowledge to himself, was really rather jolly. It was at the back of the house but had windows on two sides, each of which looked out upon the campus. It was very nearly square and of good size. The furnishings were neither elaborate nor particularly new, but there was a generous study table covered with green baize—interestingly adorned with cabalistic marks and ink stains—a sufficiency of chairs, two single white-enamelled beds, two tall and narrow chiffoniers, and a bench which, evidently of home manufacture, stood under the side window and did duty as a window-seat. The floor was uncarpeted, but rugs, the kind that are woven of old carpets, lay about the floor. Everything was immaculately neat and clean. There was something about Mrs. Westcott that forbade the thought of dust or grime.

The walls were painted a light tan, and the woodwork about the room was of varnished pine. The effect, with the rugs, whose predominant color was brick-red, was decidedly cheerful. There were no pictures—Rodney learned that denizens of the Westcott Cottage were not allowed to hang anything on the walls—but the back of one of the chiffoniers held a number of photographs.