“I don’t see how Sarah gets time for everything the way she does,” Blue Bonnet sighed. “She never seems to hurry.”
“It is generally the busiest people who have most time,” Grandmother said, forestalling Miss Lucinda.
“Alec says there have to be some idlers in the world to keep things balanced. Alec does say such comforting things.”
“More comforting than bracing, I am afraid,” Miss Lucinda commented; “but in his case, there is some excuse, as he is really not strong.”
Blue Bonnet decided to go to bed. “We were getting on thin ice,” she confided to Solomon, who insisted on going upstairs for a final chat. “And it seemed a pity—after we’d been getting on so comfortably. Solomon, I’ve such an inspiration—got straight from Aunt Lucinda—I’ll send Benita the wool in the Christmas box—and let her make her own shawl!”
And when Kitty asked on Monday morning how the shawl was progressing, Blue Bonnet told her what she had told Solomon.
“So thoughtful of you, my dear!” Kitty observed. “But don’t forget to put in the sample too—as proof of how it ought not to be done.”
And for the rest of that recess there was a coolness between them.
For some reason—unexplained even to herself, Blue Bonnet had put off telling her grandmother of her change of plan. Perhaps Grandmother would speak of the shawl first. Grandmother did, that same evening.
“I—I’ve given up making it,” Blue Bonnet explained. “I—I don’t believe crocheting is my vocation.”