“If it wasn’t so late, we’d stop and tell them all about everything,” she said to Archibald. “It seems almost mean not to. They’d enjoy it so much, but anyway they’ve seen this dress and my hat and parasol, and that’s a lot. Ginsy Shalloway could talk about that much for weeks ’n’ weeks. Maybe it’s nicer for them to have things spread out and not know about the other clothes and dinner at the hotel and the floorwalker and Miss Carter and everything all at once. I’m going to tell Miss Moran every single thing, though. I feel as if I’d have to tell it all to somebody this very night or I’d explode, and she’s the nicest person possible to tell things to. She always understands exactly how everything was and how you felt and what you thought. You don’t have to explain a bit—just tell her things as fast as ever you can ’n’ she keeps up. Don’t you think the nicest people in the world are the people you don’t have to explain to?”
“I don’t know but what you are right,”—Archibald thought it over. “Yes; I’m sure you’re right, Peg. It’s a great thing to have any one understand when you do explain; and if somebody understands without having to explain—yes; you’re undoubtedly right.”
“Well, Miss Moran’s like that. You tell her a word or two and she knows the rest. That’s why she gets on with all kinds of people the way she does.”
Mrs. Neal was at the gate when Susy stopped before it, and Mr. Neal, thin, leathery, solemn mannered but twinkling eyed, rose from a chair on the porch and strolled out to take the horse.
“Land’s sakes, Peg, you’re a treat!”—Mrs. Neal’s fat face was radiant with delight. “Talk about fine feathers! Why, that’s as tasty a hat as I ever saw, and as sweet a face under it, I don’t care where the next comes from.”
Pegeen opened her parasol and turned round and round excitedly before her admirer.
“’N’ there’s more in boxes,” she announced. “Heaps—’n’ there was strawberry ice cream ’n’ finger bowls ’n’—We’ve got to go, Miss Moran’ll be there, but just as soon as I get my breakfast dishes washed I’ll run down ’n’ tell you all about everything. Oh, Mrs. Neal, it was perfectly grand. It was better ’n the measles—only, of course I love Miss Moran best. Anyway I love her just as well. Seems as if I could love anybody though, when I’ve got this hat and dress ’n’ parasol. I’m sorry I ever said Benny Crocker was a nasty little toad. He isn’t really, ’n’ anyway toads are kind of cunning.”
“I guess all the unloving things you ever said wouldn’t make much of a spot on your pink outfit,”—Mrs. Neal chuckled reassuringly—“and, if you ask me, it’s the toad you wasn’t fair to when you compared that Crocker imp to it. I’m partial to toads myself. They’re my best help in the garden.”
“Good night.” Pegeen stretched two thin arms up, slipped them round the neck of the woman who stooped to her, and kissed the broad expanse of cheek. “Maybe you don’t like kissing,” she said apologetically, “but I couldn’t help it. I hope I won’t meet anybody I oughtn’t to kiss to-night, ’cause, like as not, I’d up and do it anyway. Good night, Mr. Neal.”
She gave Susy a love pat.