Part 60 (2/2)

”Well, do come in,” cried Polly, interrupting her stream of complaint, and, picking up the bag of nuts before any one else could tumble over it, she hurried Alexia into the little shop.

”And I'm glad enough to get where I can lay this old thing down,” declared Alexia, dumping the bag of sugar upon the first resting-place she saw, an aesthetic little lounge, covered with elaborately embroidered pieces. ”Oh, me! my arms are almost broken,” and she stretched them restfully, ”and beside, the sugar is 'most all run out.”

”Oh, Alexia!” cried Polly, quite aghast, as she saw where Alexia had deposited the sugar, just as the proprietor of the shop hurried up with dismay written all over her countenance.

”Oh, my beautiful centerpieces!” she exclaimed, raising both hands in dismay, ”I am sure they are quite, quite ruined.”

”It's nothing but sugar,” grumbled Alexia, as she huddled up her bundle again.

”And I'll brush it all off,” said Polly anxiously, bestowing little pats over the various specimens of fancy work. ”See, Miss Angell, I don't believe it's hurt,” she said, lifting her flushed face.

”Well, I don't wish them,” declared two ladies together, coming back from the small table Where they had gone to examine more work.

”They are quite mussed and tumbled now,” added one, ”and not at all what we want. Come, Sister,” and she walked to the door, viewing with disfavor Alexia and her bundle, and Polly Pepper as well.

Miss Angell's face dropped to such a length that Polly couldn't bear to look at it.

”Oh, please don't go,” cried Polly, flying after the irate customer; ”I don't really believe the pretty things are hurt. Do just come back and see, please.”

The other lady was standing irresolutely by the lounge, but she wouldn't even look at the centerpieces that Miss Angell was smoothing out with a despairing hand, preparing to put them into their boxes again.

”It was clean sugar,” Polly ran on, feeling quite sure if she stopped talking, that all hope was lost.

”But they are mussed,” began the lady by the door, very decidedly.

Alexia was huddling up her bundle quite gone in despair, and lost to all the distress of having no candy to take to the Cooking Club supper. If those two ladies would only buy the centerpieces they had selected, it was all she hoped for in this world.

”No, indeed! Come, Sister!” and she opened the door. ”Why, Mrs. Alexander!”

Mrs. Alexander, a portly person, with a great deal of black jet and lace, that seemed to be always catching in the apparel of those who pa.s.sed her, worked her way into the small shop, and up past the knot of people, giving friendly nods of recognition on her way.

”How d'ye do, Miss Ellicott, Miss Juliana. How are you, Polly? And, Alexia, how is your aunt?” And without waiting for a reply, she sprang, if such a ponderous body could be said to spring, at the box of centerpieces Miss Angell was packing away. ”Oh, oh! how beautiful! Stop”--laying her large hand on one. ”Just what I want. How much is it?”

”Fifteen dollars,” said Miss Angell, whipping it neatly out of the box, her dismal frown becoming an expansive smile. ”Yes, it is a beauty--one of the very latest things,” and she spread it forth on the lounge with an experienced little nourish.

Miss Ellicott deserted the door and hurried over to the lounge.

”I'll--I'll”--as she tried to work herself in between. But the portly Mrs.

Alexander had no idea of being interrupted at such an important crisis in life when centerpieces were to be decided upon, so she loudly kept on in her bargaining. ”I'll take it,” she said, in her most decided fas.h.i.+on. ”And the next one, too, I fancy; let me see that.”

”But that is,” gasped Miss Juliana, threading her way into the group, ”the very one that I liked.”

”Eh?” said Mrs. Alexander, looking up with the acute eyes of a bargain-hunter. ”Oh, I don't wonder you like it; it's a beauty. Yes, I'll take it also. How much did you say it was, Miss Angell?”

Miss Angell, who hadn't said, saw no reason why she shouldn't now make it any price that appealed to her better judgment.

”Twenty dollars,” she answered, clapping on a cool third of its price, and Mrs. Alexander, who cared very little what she paid for it, beamed at her, and said:

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