As far as the Indian china was concerned, she had her convictions.

She was a cheap realist to the bone.
She sniffed.

"I suppose there's those that likes it," said she, "but as for me, I can't see how anybody with eyes in their heads can look twice at old, cloudy, blue stuff like that when they can have nice, clear, white ware, with flowers on it that _are_ flowers, like this Calkin's soap set.

There ain't a thing on the china in that closet that's natural.

Whoever saw a prospect all in blue, the trees and plants, and heathen houses, and the heathen, all blue?
I like things to be natural, myself." Horace laughed, and extended his plate for another piece of pie.
"It's an acquired taste," he said.
"I never had any time to acquire tastes.