Meadowsweet, poor man, had been particular about his carpets.

There were grades in carpets as in all other things, and felt, amongst these grades, ranked low, very low indeed.

Kidderminster might be permitted in bedrooms, although Mrs.Meadowsweet would scorn to see it in any room in _her_ house, but Brussels was surely the only correct carpet for people of medium means to cover their drawing-room floors with.

The report that Mrs.Bertram's drawing-room wore a mantle of felt had reached Mrs.Meadowsweet's ears.

She had emphatically declined to believe in any such calumny, and yet now her own eyes saw, her own good-humored, kind eyes, that wished to think well of all the world, rested on that peculiar greeny-brown felt, which surely must have come to its present nondescript hue by the aid of many suns.