Although many of these visitors were strangers to him, some of them he knew.
One day it was Mrs. Hattie Blaisdell, with a countenance even more florid than usual. She was breathless and excited, and her eyes were worried. She was going to give a luncheon, she said. She wanted Miss Maggie’s silver spoons, and her forks, and her hand painted sugar-and-creamer, and Mother Blaisdell’s cut-glass dish.
Mr. Smith, supposing that Miss Maggie herself was to be at the luncheon, was just rejoicing within him that she was to have this pleasant little outing, when he heard Mrs. Blaisdell telling her to be sure to come at eleven to be in the kitchen, and asking where could she get a maid to serve in the dining-room, and what should she do with Benny. He’d have to be put somewhere, or else he’d be sure to upset everything.
Mr. Smith did not hear Miss Maggie’s answer to all this, for she hurried her visitor to the kitchen at once to look up the spoons, she said. But indirectly he obtained a very conclusive reply; for he found Miss Maggie gone one day when he came; and Benny, who was in her place, told him all about it, even to the dandy frosted cake Aunt Maggie had made for the company to eat.
Another day it was Mrs. Jane Blaisdell who came. Mrs. Jane had a tired frown between her brows and a despairing droop to her lips. She carried a large bundle which she dropped unceremoniously into Miss Maggie’s lap.
“There, I’m dead beat out, and I’ve brought it to you. You’ve just got to help me,” she finished, sinking into a chair.
“Why, of course, if I can. But what is it?” Miss Maggie’s deft fingers were already untying the knot.
“It’s my old black silk. I’m making it over.”
“Again? But I thought the last time it couldn’t ever be done again.”
“Yes, I know; but there’s lots of good in it yet,” interposed Mrs. Jane decidedly; “and I’ve bought new velvet and new lace, and some buttons and a new lining. I thought I could do it alone, but I’ve reached a point where I just have got to have help. So I came right over.”