Part 8 (1/2)
”Hmn,” she said, when Pauline broached the subject of the spare room, ”what put that notion in your head, I'd like to know! That paper ain't got a tear in it!”
So Pauline went further, telling her something of Uncle Paul's letter and how they hoped to carry his suggestion out.
Miranda stood still, her hands in the dish water--”That's your pa's own brother, ain't it?”
Pauline nodded. ”And Miranda--”
”I reckon he ain't much like the minister. Well, me an' Sarah Jane ain't the least bit alike--if we are sisters. I guess I can manage 'bout the papering. But it does go 'gainst me, having that s.e.xton woman in. Still, I reckon you can't be content, 'till we get started.
Looking for the old gentleman up, later, be you?”
”For whom?” Pauline asked.
”Your pa's brother. The minister's getting on, and the other one's considerable older, I understand.”
”I don't think he will be up,” Pauline answered; she hadn't thought of that before. Suppose he should come! She wondered what he would be like.
Half way down the street, Pauline was overtaken by her younger sister.
”Are you going to get the new things now, Paul?” she asked eagerly.
”Of course not, just get some samples.”
”There's always such a lot of getting ready first,” Patience sighed.
”Paul, mother says I may go with you to-morrow afternoon.”
”All right,” Pauline agreed. ”Only, you've got to promise not to 'hi yi' at f.a.n.n.y all the way.”
”I won't--all the way.”
”And--Impatience?”
”Yes?”
”You needn't say what we want the new paper for, or anything about what we are planning to do--in the store I mean.”
”Mr. Ward would be mighty interested.”
”I dare say.”
”Miranda says you're beginning to put on considerable airs, since you've been turning your hair up, Paul Shaw. When I put my hair up, I'm going on being just as nice and friendly with folks, as before, you'll see.”
Pauline laughed, which was not at all to Patience's liking. ”All the same, mind what I say,” she warned.
”Can I help choose?” Patience asked, as they reached the store.
”If you like.” Pauline went through to the little annex devoted to wall papers and carpetings. It was rather musty and dull in there, Patience thought; she would have liked to make a slow round of the whole store, exchanging greetings and various confidences with the other occupants. The store was a busy place on Sat.u.r.day morning, and Patience knew every man, woman and child in Winton.
They had got their samples and Pauline was lingering before a new line of summer dressgoods just received, when the young fellow in charge of the post-office and telegraph station called to her: ”I say, Miss Shaw, here's a message just come for you.”