THE CALICO PAPER. 193

We went back into the room. The paper was put on
straight; we ran our fingers over it; not a wrinkle; no
experienced paperer could have found fault; but Emma
Elizabeth was right, it did n’t look straight.

The cranberry line danced before our eyes. We went to
this corner, and that; out and in and out again; we sat on
the window-sill; we sat on the banisters; we sat upon the
floor ; upon the book-case ; if we ’d been boys, we should have
stood on our heads to view that cranberry line.

There was no mistake about it; it waved before our eyes
like a new-mown lawn.

“ We are tired,” said Alta; “we ’ll come in again by and
by.”

By and by we went in once more; and by and by again.

Alas and alas for the beautiful cranberry line! Did I say
like a new-mown lawn? Like a field of wheat before the
_ breeze, like a loose carpet on a windy day, like the waves of a
rising sea, like the billows of a furious storm. Turn whither-
soever we would, our beautiful striped paper swam, bubbled,
rippled, rolled before our eyes. Alta turned pale. I think
my complexion must have changed to a delicate green.

“The wall is uneven,’’ said Alta, with horrible calmness.
“T see now ; the house is old, Mari, and sunken; the wall
tips and sags; the plastering bulges in and out. Anything
but a stripe would have been lovely, but a stripe will go on
forever —ever,— go on, go on, forever!” Alta tried to

sing; but she more nearly cried.
9 M