Part 27 (1/2)

suggested Mrs. Dodge.

”If they can be repaired, I certainly do,” replied Lydia.

”Mother!” expostulated f.a.n.n.y, in a low but urgent tone. ”Ellen and I--we really ought to be going.”

The girl's face glowed with shamed crimson. She felt haughty and humiliated and angry all at once. It was not to be borne.

Mrs. Dix was not listening to f.a.n.n.y Dodge.

”I bid in the big, four-post mahogany bed at the auction,” she said, ”and the bureau to match; an' I believe there are two or three chairs about the house.”

”We've got a table,” chimed in Mrs. Dodge; ”but one leg give away, an' I had it put up in the attic years ago. And f.a.n.n.y's got a bed and bureau in her room that was painted white, with little pink flowers tied up with blue ribbons. Of course the paint is pretty well rubbed off; but--”

”Oh, might I have that set?” cried Lydia, turning to f.a.n.n.y. ”Perhaps you've grown fond of it and won't want to give it up. But I--I'd pay almost anything for it. And of course I shall want the mahogany, too.”

”Well, we didn't know,” explained Mrs. Dix, with dignity. ”We got those pieces instead of the money we'd ought to have had from the estate. There was a big crowd at the auction, I remember; but n.o.body really wanted to pay anything for the old furniture. A good deal of it had come out of folks' attics in the first place.”

”I shall be glad to pay three hundred dollars for the mahogany bed and bureau,” said Lydia. ”And for the little white set--”

”I don't care to part with my furniture,” said f.a.n.n.y Dodge, her pretty round chin uplifted.

She was taller than Lydia, and appeared to be looking over her head with an intent stare at the freshly papered wall beyond.

”For pity sake!” exclaimed her mother sharply. ”Why, f.a.n.n.y, you could buy a brand new set, an' goodness knows what-all with the money.

What's the matter with you?”

”I know just how f.a.n.n.y feels about having her room changed,” put in Ellen Dix, with a spirited glance at the common enemy. ”There are things that money can't buy, but some people don't seem to think so.”

Lydia's blue eyes had clouded swiftly.

”If you'll come into the library,” she said, ”we'll have some lemonade. It's so very warm I'm sure we are all thirsty.”

She did not speak of the furniture again, and after a little the visitors rose to go. Mrs. Dodge lingered behind the others to whisper:

”I'm sure I don't know what got into my f.a.n.n.y. Only the other day she was wis.h.i.+ng she might have her room done over, with new furniture and all. I'll try and coax her.”

But Lydia shook her head.

”Please don't,” she said. ”I want that furniture very much; but--I know there are things money can't buy.”

”Mebbe you wouldn't want it, if you was t' see it,” was Mrs. Dodge's honest opinion. ”It's all turned yellow, an' the pink flowers are mostly rubbed off. I remember it was real pretty when we first got it. It used to belong to Mrs. Bolton's little girl. I don't know as anybody's told you, but they had a little girl. My! what an awful thing for a child to grow up to! I've often thought of it. But mebbe she didn't live to grow up. None of us ever heard.”

”Mother!” called f.a.n.n.y, from the front seat of the carryall. ”We're waiting for you.”

”In a minute, f.a.n.n.y,” said Mrs. Dodge.... ”Of course you can have that table I spoke of, Miss Orr, and anything else I can find in the attic, or around. An' I was thinking if you was to come down to the Ladies' Aid on Friday afternoon--it meets at Mrs. Mixter's this week, at two o'clock; you know where Mrs. Mixter lives, don't you? Well; anyway, Mrs. Solomon Black does, an' she generally comes. But I know lots of the ladies has pieces of that furniture; and most of them would be mighty glad to get rid of it. But they are like my f.a.n.n.y--kind of contrary, and backward about selling things. I'll talk to f.a.n.n.y when we get home. Why, she don't any more want that old painted set--”

”Mother!” f.a.n.n.y's sweet angry voice halted the rapid progress of her mother's speech for an instant.

”I shouldn't wonder if the flies was bothering th' horse,” surmised Mrs. Dodge; ”he does fidget an' stamp somethin' terrible when the flies gets after him; his tail ain't so long as some.... Well, I'll let you know; and if you could drop around and see the table and all-- Yes, some day this week. Of course I'll have to buy new furniture to put in their places; so will Mrs. Dix. But I will say that mahogany bed is handsome; they've got it in their spare room, and there ain't a scratch on it. I can guarantee that.... Yes; I guess the flies are bad today; looks like rain. Good-by!”

Lydia stood watching the carryall, as it moved away from under the milk-white pillars of the restored portico. Why did f.a.n.n.y Dodge and Ellen Dix dislike her, she wondered, and what could she do to win their friends.h.i.+p? Her troubled thoughts were interrupted by Martha, the taciturn maid.