Aunt Martha hasn’t had time to fix the spare room bed up yet, so she says; so NOBODY can sleep there, no matter how clean their heads are. And our room is so small, and the bed so small you can’t sleep with us.”
“I can go back to the hay in the old barn for the night if you’ll lend me a quilt,” said Mary philosophically. “It was kind of chilly last night, but ‘cept for that I’ve had worse beds.”
“Oh, no, no, you mustn’t do that,” said Una. “I’ve thought of a plan, Faith. You know that little trestle bed in the garret room, with the old mattress on it, that the last minister left there? Let’s take up the spare room bedclothes and make Mary a bed there.