“Not to-day,” said Mrs. Owen. “We’ll never get our shopping done if we stop to call on all the neighbors.”
When they came to the smoothly finished stone wall in front of the Thorntons’ large place, Peggy climbed up so she could have the pleasure of walking across it.
“Come, Alice,” she said, helping her small sister up.
“Oh, children,” said their mother in despair, “we shall never get downtown.”
But they did get there at last, although they met several of their neighbors on the road, and Peggy stopped to caress a black pussy-cat and make friends with a yellow collie dog. The shop seemed very dark after the brightness of the spring sunshine outdoors. The saleswomen seemed sleepy and not at all interested in what they were selling. Peggy thought they probably did not live so far from the village; they could not have had such a joyous walk as they had had, or met so many friends.
“Oh, that beautiful collie dog! How lucky the Thorntons were to have him! And the black pussy was a darling, not half so beautiful, of course, as Lady Jane, but still, a darling.” She sighed when she thought of Lady Jane.
She had slipped away again to her old home, and a few days later the same boy had brought her back in the same basket. The children had not seen him, for they were at school when he came, and their mother did not ask him how many children there were in the family. She had discovered, however, that his name was Christopher. They had kept Pussy in the house since then, hoping in this way to get her used to the place. But she seemed very anxious to get out, and in this April weather Peggy did not feel it quite kind to keep her indoors. She would not like it herself, and one should do as one would be done by.
Peggy’s mother went to the back of the store, where there was a man behind the counter who seemed more alive than the girls. Peggy followed her mother, but Alice’s attention had been caught by some doll carriages.
“I want you to show me something strong and serviceable for frocks for my little girl, who is very hard on her clothes,” said Mrs. Owen.
Peggy hung her head. She wished her mother had not said that. The man did not look as if he ever could have been hard on his clothes, even when he was a small boy.