The rug isn't anything but darns, nor the tablecloth, either--except patches.

It's awful, Bertram!" "I know, darling; but _you_ don't expect to buy them new rugs and new tablecloths, do you ?" Billy gave one of her unexpected laughs.
"Mercy!" she chuckled.

"Only picture Miss Alice's face if I _should_ try to buy them rugs and tablecloths! No, dear," she went on more seriously, "I sha'n't do that, of course--though I'd like to; but I shall try to see Mrs.Greggory again, if it's nothing more than a rose or a book or a new magazine that I can take to her." "Or a smile--which I fancy will be the best gift of the lot," amended Bertram, fondly.
Billy dimpled and shook her head.
"Smiles--my smiles--are not so valuable, I'm afraid--except to you, perhaps," she laughed.
"Self-evident facts need no proving," retorted Bertram.

"Well, and what else has happened in all these ages I've been away ?" Billy brought her hands together with a sudden cry.
"Oh, and I haven't told you!" she exclaimed.

"I'm writing a new song--a love song.