It was a piece of patterned stuff about the size of the quarto page, to which it was fastened by an old-fashioned pin. James detached it and handed it to his aunt, carefully replacing the pin in the paper.
Now, I do not know exactly what the fabric was; but it had a design printed upon it, which completely fascinated Miss Denton. She went into raptures over it, held it against the wall, made James do the same, that she might retire to contemplate it from a distance: then pored over it at close quarters, and ended her examination by expressing in the warmest terms her appreciation of the taste of the ancient Mr. Poynter who had had the happy idea of preserving this sample in his diary. ‘It is a most charming pattern,’ she said, ‘and remarkable too. Look, James, how delightfully the lines ripple. It reminds one of hair, very much, doesn’t it. And then these knots of ribbon at intervals. They give just the relief of colour that is wanted. I wonder——’ ‘I was going to say,’ said James with deference, ‘I wonder if it would cost much to have it copied for our curtains.’ ‘Copied? how could you have it copied, James?’ ‘Well, I don’t know the details, but I suppose that is a printed
