“Say, Mist. Vernon, didn’ you order it?”
“No,” said I.
She clapped her hands rapturously. “Then you can thank me for it, Mist. Vernon and we’ll have music when Miss Cherry comes. I half knowed he didn’t mean it for here but I wanted it.”
“What do you mean, Minerva? Tell us what happened.”
“Why, it was this way. I was moppin’ de kitchen an’ I see a man pass the winder, an’ I thought maybe it was tramps, an’ I clinched the mop an’ got ready to run, an’ a man comes to the back-kitchen door an’ asks where he’s to put the pianner.
“‘What pianner?’ says I. ‘Why, the on’y pianner we’ve brought,’ says he, ‘for Mr. Werner.’”
“‘Vernon,’ says I. ‘Well, Vernon,’ says he, ‘Where’ll I put it,’ says he, and I says, ‘Right in the parlour,’ and I walked thoo to show him, and he went out to the other man an’ they unstrapped it an’ like to ha’ broke the porch floor gettin’ it in, an’ they set it up an’ unlocked it an’ then they gev me the recippy to sign an’ it was written on it, ‘Mr. H. Werner,’ but I thought as long as the pianner was up an’ you’d like it I wouldn’t tell ’em they’d made a mistake, an’ I signed the recippy an’ they drove off.”
I looked at Ethel.
“It’s fate,” said she.
“Do you know where it came from?” said I to Minerva.