The dining-room wall paper had a broad stripe of rich cream with pink cabbage roses scattered over it and a narrow pink stripe, while the woodwork was something perfectly marvellous.

I didn't know what kind of wood it was, but a man who could turn his hand to anything, painted it.

First, he put on a pale yellow coat and let it dry.

Then he added wood brown, and while it was wet, with a coarse toothed comb, a rag, and his fingers, he imitated the grain, the even wood, and knotholes of dressed lumber, until many a time I found myself staring steadily at a knot to see if a worm wouldn't really come working out.

You have to see a thing like that to understand how wonderful it is.