"Huh!" ejaculated Ben. "Poor girl, I'm sorry for her, then. She is going to stumble over me every time she turns around. She is going to see me till she cries for mercy."
He smiled into Miss Upton's doubtful, questioning face for a silent space.
"Don't worry about that," he said at last. "Just go upstairs and put on your duds, like the dear thing you are, and get the next train." The speaker looked at his watch. "You can catch it all right."
"I never heard o' such a thing," said Miss Mehitable. She had made her semi-annual trip to the city. The idea of going back again with no preparation was startling—and also expensive.
Ben perceived that if there were to be any initiative here he would have to furnish it.
"You don't expect to open the shop again until you have moved, do you?"
"No," admitted Miss Upton reluctantly.
"Then you can take your time. Take these flowers upstairs, ask her what size things she wears, and hurry up and catch the train."
Miss Upton brought her gaze back from its far-away look and she appeared to come to herself. "Look here, Ben Barry, I'm not goin' to be crazy just because you are. Her clean clothes'll be all ready for her by night. I can buy her a sailor hat right here in the village and maybe a jacket. She's got to go to town with me. The idea of buyin' a lot of clothes and maybe not havin' 'em right."
"You're perfectly correct, Miss Upton."