And during the lesson in crocheting which followed, Blue Bonnet planned enough boxes to have called for, Grandmother said, a whole car of their own.
She did not take readily to the lesson itself; but that was because she was thinking about something else, she explained.
“A good many ‘else’s,’ I am afraid,” Grandmother answered. “Better unravel that and start afresh.”
“It’s easier just to break it off,” Blue Bonnet suited the action to the word. “I wonder who invented crocheting! I think they might have found something better to do!”
“You are not discouraged already, Blue Bonnet!”
“Not ‘discouraged,’ Grandmother, but sort of—disgusted. I hope Benita properly appreciates her shawl. I wonder whether she would rather have a purple and crimson, or red and yellow? It’ll have to be bright-colored, in any case.”
Mrs. Clyde glanced at the pink worsted chain Blue Bonnet was making; at present, it resembled a corkscrew more closely than anything else. “Isn’t it a bit soon to decide upon the color?”
“I always want to get things settled as soon as possible; besides, I shall feel as if it were really started, once I have bought the wools,” Blue Bonnet urged.
As soon as the regulation Saturday duties were through with the next morning, she was off to buy her wools. They occupied the place of honor on the clubroom table that afternoon.
The snow predicted by Denham, though a trifle behind schedule time, had arrived in good earnest; there could be no riding that afternoon.