“Take mine, dear,” said Jessie, placidly; “it’s on that chair, and the buttons are all in it.”
Betty’s face cleared, and she slipped on Jessie’s waist in a jiffy, and was at the front door in another.
There she found the postman and a pleasant-faced Irish girl who said:
“I’m Rosie, mum.”
“You are indeed,” said Betty, looking at her red cheeks; “come in.”
Just then Hester landed in the lower hall with a jump which had included the last four stairs.
“I’m glad to see you, Rosie,” said she, kindly; “come along with us and we’ll face the bombardment.”
Rosie, looking somewhat bewildered, followed the two girls to the kitchen. Going through, Betty unlocked the door which opened into a sort of outer kitchen or shed with latticed and morning-gloried walls. The door of the shed too was barred, and when this was finally unfastened, instead of the looked-for multitude they saw only the red-haired grocer sitting dejectedly on the stump of a tree.
He took off his cap as he saw the girls, and his hair blazed merrily in the sunshine.
“Morning, young ladies,” said he; “the fish-man he couldn’t wait no longer, and the vegetable-man likewise was in a hurry. But I sez, I’ll wait, fer like as not there’ll be things you fergot overnight, besides fresh orders.”