"
Charlotte sat down in a despairing heap on the floor and hid her face in
her hands. Jeff glanced helplessly from her to the table in the corner.
Then he observed that it was bare of the pile of drawings.
"Nothing's happened to the wall-paper?" he asked, eagerly.
Charlotte nodded.
"What?"
"Go look up in the attic, if you must know."
Jeff dashed up-stairs, and surveyed the havoc. He came back breathless
with dismay.
"How did it happen?"
"Baby--bath-tub."
"The little--_imp_! Are they spoiled?"
"You saw."
"Yes; colours run together a bit on some, others torn in two. Yet they
show what they were, Fiddle--I vow they do. I'd take them just as they
are, explain the whole thing, and see what comes of it."
Charlotte raised her head to shake it vigorously. "Offer work in such
shape as that? I'm not such a goose."
"Got to do them all over?"
Her head sank again. "If I can get the courage."
"Of course you can," declared Jeff, more cheerfully. "You never lack
pluck. Poor girl, I'm mighty sorry, though. It's simply tough to have it
happen at the last minute.
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