The furniture, too, was not only antique, but wabbly-legged and here and there tied up with strings or leather thongs.

Statuettes were about, broken and dusty; jugs and bowls of dull brass and copper; rickety screens; enormous unframed photographs, warped and faded, but bearing splashing and unintelligible autographs; and draperies of all sorts, from old shawls to tattered ecclesiastical robes.
"I see what Mr.Blaney meant by the key of saffron," said Patty, sagely.

"Everything is that colour because of the accumulation of dust and dirt! I don't believe this place has ever had a good house-cleaning!" "Oh, Patty, my dear child! Don't thus expose your ignorance! Bohemia never cleans house! The very thought is sacrilege!" "Why is it?
Some of this old brass stuff would be lovely if it were cleaned up.

And look at that copper kettle! It's positively blue!" "But that's what they want, dear," said Van Reypen, smiling at her.
"Howsumever, I'm glad you don't like it.

We won't model our home on a Bohemian plan." "And look at the people," went on Patty, in an awe-struck whisper.
"Some of them are decent, like our crowd,--but look at that girl in orange!" The girl in question wore a costume of flame-coloured woolen material that was indeed striking.