Mrs. Morrow lived quite at the far end of the street, in a quaint, old-fashioned little house; altogether too pleasant, in Blue Bonnet’s opinion, to be the home of anyone who followed the trade of dressmaking, and gave people fittings.
The big tiger-cat, enjoying the evening on the doorstep, came down the path to meet Blue Bonnet, arching her back, and purring loudly; while in the doorway, Netty Morrow, Mrs. Morrow’s niece, was standing.
“My aunt’s been looking for you before this, Miss Blue Bonnet,” she said; “she’s gone out now—but you’re to come try on Monday afternoon without fail.”
“I did forget that last time, truly,” Blue Bonnet apologized.
Netty led the way into the sewing-room, picking up one of Blue Bonnet’s new skirts. “I should think you’d be feeling fine—having so many pretty things all at once.”
“But I don’t get them all at once! I wish dresses could grow from seeds!”
“Well of all the queer ideas!”
“Are you going out?” Blue Bonnet asked, as Netty took up her hat. “It’s lovely out.”
Netty pointed to several parcels lying on the table. “I have to take them home, Miss.”
“Could I leave them for you?”