"Mittie! Do you hear? You ought to put my basket tidy." No response from the cloud of flaxen hair, which was now about all that could be seen of Mittie beyond a table. "Well—I suppose I shall have to do it myself."
"I would not," Julia said in an undertone.
Mrs. Trevor paid no attention to the remark, but perhaps it was not without effect, for she presently remarked, "You have been a very naughty disobedient girl, Mittie. I have a great mind not to take you for a drive."
Mittie did not stir. She only answered placidly, "If you don't, mother, I shall cry."
Mrs. Trevor seemed to count that threat conclusive, for she allowed the matter to drop; and half-an-hour later, when the two ladies dressed, Mittie too put on a picturesque hat and a pair of dainty kid gloves.
"I can't think why you should object to driving alone with Mittie, and letting me go to the station," Julia broke out at the last moment.
"Because I prefer to have you with me, my dear. Driving alone makes me nervous. Besides, it is quite useless your going. Nobody knows what hour Harvey will really arrive."
Julia submitted, but she proved to be of little use in the conversational line. All through the drive she seemed distraite, as if her mind were elsewhere, and when Francesca wanted an opinion on different qualities of black silk, Julia had none to give. Her one desire was to get back early, lest Harvey should arrive and find empty rooms. It would be so forlorn, so chilling, for the young husband to have no welcome. Julia judged him by herself, knowing how she would feel in his place, not perhaps allowing for his more phlegmatic and even temperament. She loved him passionately, all the fervent warmth of her nature, which for years had found no outlet, flowing in the new-made channel. The short necessary absence, which he counted so very short and so very necessary, was to her a long and severe trial; and she reckoned the hours, almost the minutes, to the time when he would be with her again, with something of a child's impatience.
But Francesca would not be hurried. The choice of a few yards of silk was, in her estimation, a serious and weighty business. She bestowed upon it all her powers of thought and attention, utterly disregarding Julia's stifled agony of impatience.
However, everything comes to an end in time, and so did Francesca's shopping. Then they were driving in the direction of the hotel, Julia leaning well forward, as if she could thus urge the horses to the speed she desired. Her eyes gazed fixedly ahead, and Francesca's observations were unheard.