Yesterday morning when we went into breakfast at the Dunster House we found a model boudoir set up in the lobby through which one usually walks to the dining hall and common rooms. Over the flagstone floor someone had carefully laid a rug, and all around the room were tastefully arranged morris chairs, a sofa, a table on which stood a lamp, and along one wall even a bed. In the center had been placed a card table on which appeared all the evidences of a well-spent evening, even to a tempting-looking lemon rind in one of the glasses. In the way of wall hangings the decorator had draped a tapestry over the bulletin board, and above it in a neat row along the window-sill were arranged the contents of a well-stocked library. The personal touch in these decorations had been achieved by the presence of a sponge doggy peering down from the mail box.

When we came down to mail a letter in the middle of the morning there was a Maintenance Department man surveying the scene, notebook in hand, probably estimating how much he could charge to move the furniture back. By lunch time all that was left was the lemon pool which had rolled under the radiator.