Blue Bonnet stared at the limp, brown-paper parcel as if spellbound. “Know anything about it!” she had caught the parcel from her aunt’s hand and was out of the room by now. “It’s Mrs. Blake’s new silk waist!” came back from the hall.
Then the front door slammed.
CHAPTER XIX
THE BOSTON RELATIVES
“I’m mighty glad it wasn’t something belonging to Mr. Blake,” Blue Bonnet rejoiced, hurrying bare-headed down the street to the parsonage; “I would have hated having to explain to him!”
She understood now why Mrs. Blake had looked so flushed and disappointed the evening before; probably, she had set her heart on having her new waist to wear.
“Oh, dear!” Blue Bonnet sighed; and she was so tragic in her request to see Mrs. Blake at once that Lydia, who opened the door, thought something dreadful must have happened at the Clyde place, and led the way directly to the kitchen, where her mother was kneading bread.
“You can’t imagine what I’ve come to tell you!” Blue Bonnet laid the brown-paper parcel on the table beside the big bread-pan. “Nor how sorry I am!”
“Bring Blue Bonnet a chair, Lydia,” Mrs. Blake said, looking at the parcel in surprise. “You will excuse me if I go on with what I am doing, my dear?”
“I’m afraid it is you who will not want to forgive me!” Blue Bonnet plunged into the full tide of confession, explanation, and apology; with the result that presently her listener—who had really been greatly disappointed at the non-appearance of the waist at the promised time,—new waists were rare events at the parsonage,—found herself called upon to play the part of comforter; Blue Bonnet’s distress of mind was so evident.