Part 24 (2/2)
She looked at him and the corners of her mouth drew down. ”Ben Barry, what do you want to tell such a lie for?”
”Because I think it sounds nice,” he returned, unabashed. ”Really, I think she would if she dared, you know. We had it out last night. Now what are you going to do about Miss Melody's clothes?”
”Yes, what am I?” said Miss Upton. ”Say, Ben”--she gave his arm a push and lowered her voice--”what do you s'pose Charlotte's doin'? She's out in the shed was.h.i.+n' and ironin' Geraldine's clothes.” She lifted her plump shoulders and nudged Ben again. They both laughed.
”Good for Lottie!” remarked Ben.
”Oh, she's in love, just in love,” said Miss Mehitable. ”It's too funny to see her. She wants to wait on the child by inches; but clothes--Ben!
You should have seen Geraldine in my--a--my--a wrapper last night!” Miss Mehitable gave vent to another stifled chuckle. ”She was just lost in it, and we had to hunt for her and fish her out and put her into something of Charlotte's. Charlotte was tickled to death.” Again the speaker's cus.h.i.+ony fist gave Ben's arm an emphatic nudge.
He smiled sympathetically. ”I suppose so,” he said; ”but aren't you going to town to-day to buy her some things?”
”What with?” Miss Upton grew sober and extended both hands palms upward.
”I've been thinkin' about it while I was workin' here. She's got to have clothes. I shouldn't wonder if some o' my customers had things they could let us have. Once your mother would 'a' been my first thought.”
”Hand-me-downs?” said Ben, flus.h.i.+ng. ”Nothing doing. Surely you have credit at the stores.”
”Yes, I have, but it's my habit to pay my bills,” was the defiant reply, ”and that girl needs everything. I can't buy 'em all.”
Ben patted her arm. ”Don't speak so loud, you'll wake the baby. You buy the things, Mehit. I'll see that they're paid for.”
”How your mother'd love that!”
”My mother will have nothing to do with it.”
”Why, you ain't even self-supportin' yet,” declared Miss Upton bluntly.
”'T ain't anything to your discredit, of course; you ain't ready,” she added kindly.
Ben's steady eyes kept on looking into hers and his low voice replied: ”My father died suddenly, you remember. He had destroyed one will and not yet made another. I have money of my own, quite a lot of it, to tell the truth. Now if you'd just let me fly you over to town--”
Miss Mehitable started. ”Fly me over, you lunatic!”
”Well, let us go in the train, then. I'll go with you. I know in a general way just what she ought to wear. Soft silky things and a--a droopy hat.”
”Ben Barry, you've taken leave o' your senses. Don't you know that everything I get her, that poor child will want to pay for--work, and earn the money? If I buy anything for her, it's goin' to be somethin'
she can pay for before she's ninety.”
Ben sighed. ”All right, Mehit! have it your own way, only get a move. I can't take her out till she gets a hat.”
”You haven't got to take her out,” retorted Miss Upton decidedly. ”She don't want to go out with you. It was only last night she was sayin' she wished she might never see you again.”
”Huh!” e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Ben. ”Poor girl, I'm sorry for her, then. She is going to stumble over me every time she turns around. She is going to see me till she cries for mercy.”
He smiled into Miss Upton's doubtful, questioning face for a silent s.p.a.ce.
”Don't worry about that,” he said at last. ”Just go upstairs and put on your duds, like the dear thing you are, and get the next train.” The speaker looked at his watch. ”You can catch it all right.”
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