“I shouldn’t be a bit surprised,” was Rice’s remark, “if Miss Mary’s sickening for something.”
The days flew past. Saturday now, and Mary came down to breakfast in a state of dull despair.
“Mary, dear,” said Mrs Vallance, smiling as she entered the room, “I have just made a plan for you that you will like. Your father is going to drive in to Dorminster, and you are to go with him and buy Jackie’s present.”
She waited for the look of delight which she felt sure of seeing, for she knew what Mary had set her heart on for Jackie—the squirrel out of Greenop’s shop.
Poor Mary! Her thoughts flew to the empty post-office upstairs. Not a penny in it. No squirrel for Jackie, no drive to Dorminster for her. As she remembered what a jolly little squirrel it was, what bright eyes it had, what soft red-brown fur, and how Jackie would have liked it, her heart swelled. Now, she must go to his birthday party empty-handed, and it would have been the best present there.
With eyes full of tears and a scarlet flush on her cheeks she muttered very low:
“I’ve changed my mind. I don’t want to buy the squirrel.”
“You don’t want the squirrel!” repeated Mrs Vallance in great surprise.
“N–no,” stammered Mary, and she put her head suddenly down on the table and cried.
Mrs Vallance was much perplexed and very sorry for Mary’s distress, for she knew how she had looked forward to giving the squirrel to Jackie. It was not like her to change her mind about such an important matter for any slight cause.