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Updated: July 21, 2025
Now in case our cat doesn’t fall into the red paint pot and then go to sleep on my typewriter paper and make it look blue, I’ll tell you next about Papa No-Tail and Nannie Goat. One morning, bright and early, Papa No-Tail, the frog gentleman, started for the wallpaper factory where he worked at making patterns on the paper by dipping his feet in the different colored inks and jumping up and down.
No-Tail, “I’ll lie down and take a nap.” So he went fast, fast asleep on a long piece of the wall paper that was stretched out on the floor, and this was the beginning of his trouble. For, all at once, a puff of wind—not a cream puff, you understand, but a wind puff—came in the window, and rolled up the wallpaper in a tight little roll, and the worst of it was that Papa No-Tail was asleep inside.
So now we’ve reached the end of this story, and as you’re sleepy you’d better go to bed, and in case the piano key doesn’t open the front door, and go out to play hop-scotch on the sidewalk, I’ll tell you next about the Frogs’ farewell hop. One night Papa No-Tail, the frog gentleman, came home from his work in the wallpaper factory with a bundle of something under his left front leg.
As the hour drew near it had grown harder and harder; while dressing, she had resorted to counting the number of times the profile of a Roman emperor appeared in the flowers on the wallpaper. Now the worst moment of all was come the moment of good-bye. She did not look at Pin, but she heard her tireless, snuffly weeping, and set her own lips tight.
She had hardly got back when she encountered a piece by Robert Trewe in the new number of her favourite magazine, which must have been written almost immediately before her visit to Solentsea, for it contained the very couplet she had seen pencilled on the wallpaper by the bed, and Mrs. Hooper had declared to be recent.
She kept having a recurring dream of floating on the mattress of her bed to undulations and the sounds of waves splashing against a wall. These bedroom walls had old pallid- yellow wallpaper that was bubbled and flaking off and patterned onto the strips of wallpaper there were hexagon shapes.
Over the head of my own bed the ceiling was cut away, following the roof-line; and the wallpaper was perfectly shocking faded bouquets that made V's and A's, interlacing everywhere. The other bed was made up, and lay across the room. I think I only spoke once while we were making ready for bed, and that was when Rooum took from his black hand-bag a brush and a torn nightgown.
"When once you get the good will of one of those southerners," remarked the wallpaper man, "you have it for all time. I don't wish to wave the bloody shirt I am a northerner, myself but these northern houses somehow don't know how to handle the southern trade. I travel down in Louisiana and Mississippi, and I really dodge every time that one of my customers tells me he is going into the house.
The sheer grotesqueness of her home struck her painfully for the first time, as she was helped to an ancient chair that stood before the suspended Kirman rug her throne John had always called it. As she once more occupied it, there came a curious revulsion against her gorgeously shabby domain. Other women, she reflected, had neat places, cool expanses of wallpaper, furniture seemly set apart.
The more cultured ladies of Melbury Park in discussing it had called it "artistic, but slightly bizarre," a phrase which was intended to combine a guarded appreciation of novelty with a more solid preference for sanitary wallpaper, figured oilcloth and paint of what they called "dull art colours."
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