While I was in the garden sowing seeds, Ross came out to me and said,—
'Meg, excuse me mentioning it, but how much do operations cost?'
'It depends on how much they take out,' I said. '"Why, at one hoperation alone——"'
'Margaret, if you would have the goodness to give me some idea of a figure, and not make me sick, I should be so obliged.'
I looked round wildly for 'some idea of a figure.' The flower seed packet in my hand was numbered 207, so I said,—
'About 207, I should think, and it was "Our Lady of Ventre," Ross, who said that about the "hoperation." As long as it's a quotation, a person can say anything and not be blamed.'
'Your quotations always were about the limit,' he answered, and went indoors again.
A little later in the afternoon Ross was drumming idly on the drawing-room window when he suddenly exclaimed,—
'There are two visitors coming up the path, freaks, too, look at their clothes. My hat, Meg I it's Aunt Amelia, Keziah, and the fydo!'
I don't know if I said before that Keziah is tall and rather angular, with smooth black hair parted down the middle, like Aunt Amelia's, and as the maid is always arrayed in her mistress's cast-off clothes, one description will do for both. On this occasion each wore a funny little black bonnet, and a long voluminous broché skirt, the train of which was held right over the arm, showing acres of white embroidered petticoat. A black jacket, and square-toed, flat-heeled boots, and those awful stuff gloves that pull on without buttons completed an awe-inspiring costume.