"No, I'm quite sober," she explained; "but I'm changin' the 'abits of a
lifetime just to show it can be done."

Then she hurried home to clean up the house. After much thought, she had
decided to hold the reception after the wedding in the front room, as it
was the largest. She spent an hour carrying the irons, boards, and other
implements of the laundry into the back rooms. A neighbour, who poked her
head in, asked if she were moving. But when she had finished the
cleaning, she surveyed the result with surprise. The room was scrubbed as
bare as a shaven chin. So she took some coloured almanacs from the
bedroom and kitchen, and tacked them on the walls, studying the effect
with the gravity of a decorative artist. The crude blotches of colour
pleased her eye, and she considered the result with pride. "Wonderful
'ow a few pitchers liven a place up," she thought.

She looked doubtfully at the chairs. There were only three, and, years
ago, her immense weight had made them as uncertain on their legs as
drunkards. She generally sat on a box for safety. Finally, she
constructed two forms out of the ironing-boards and some boxes. Then she
fastened two ropes of pink tissue paper, that opened out like a
concertina, across the ceiling. This was the finishing touch, and lent an
air of gaiety to the room.

For two hours past Ada and Pinkey had been decorating one another in the
bedroom. When they emerged, Mrs Yabsley cried out in admiration, not
recognizing her own daughter for the moment. Their white dresses, freshly
starched and ironed by her, rustled stiffly at every movement of their
bodies, and they walked daintily as if they were treading on eggs.
Both had gone to bed with their hair screwed in curling-pins, losing half
their sleep with pain and discomfort, but the result justified the