"Do come and look at my things!" cried Marianne to the Chintz Imp, but
he remained rigidly against his shiny spotted background and refused
to move, though Marianne thought she saw a twinkle in his eye, which
showed he was not quite so impassive as he appeared to be.
"I'll try and get him put into the Servants' Hall as soon as
possible," she thought. "It makes me quite nervous to think he may
pounce upon me any minute. Besides, one must keep one's promises! How
extraordinary it is he can make himself so perfectly flat."
As soon as she was dressed she ran down to the dining room.
"Dear Aunt Olga, I've got such quantities of things to show you!" she
cried, "and as you said I might choose, may I please have new chintz
to my bed, and no pattern on it, so that it can't come out and be
Imps--I mean, have funny shapes on it. And may my old curtains be put
in the Servants' Hall? He says it will be more cheerful for him, and
though, of course, he's been very kind to me, I think I would rather
he went somewhere else. Besides, it _is_ dull for him up there, all by
himself--I mean, it would be dull for _any_ kind of chintz."
"I do think Santa Klaus has got into your head, Marianne!" said Aunt
Olga, laughing; but she promised to buy the new curtains.
In course of time they arrived--the palest blue, with little harmless
frillings to them; and the old chintz was carried off to the Servants'
Hall to make a box cover.
There it still hangs, and if you stoop down and examine it closely,
you will see the Chintz Imp looking more lively than ever, with his
green hat on one side, and a twinkling red eye on the watch for any
sort of amusement.
Marianne often goes to see him, but, rather to her disappointment, he
looks the other way, and appears not to recognize her.
"Perhaps it's just as well," she says to herself, "for he seems very
happy, and if the servants knew he was here I believe they would turn
him out immediately."
