April laughed gayly.
“You’d think that Harry cared for nothing in the world so much as sewing,” she teased.
“I do sew sometimes,” Harriot protested. “And now that we have some truly buttons, not persimmon seeds, I’ll do more of it. I like to sew on buttons when we have them.”
“I think the pins are the greatest blessing you could have brought us, Dorothea,” Mrs. May assured her enthusiastically. “I am so tired of sticking things together with thorns and pretending they are pins because they have sealing-wax heads.”
Then they began to find the dainty dresses, and lengths of fine materials that Dorothea had brought and, like four women anywhere, they were completely absorbed in fingering them and admiring them, each, no doubt, wondering if they would be becoming. They laughed and joked, praising this or that piece of silk, or camel’s hair, or de beige, and forgetting everything else for the time being. Then suddenly Dorothea stopped talking and listened. She had heard a gentle knocking at the door.
“Some one wishes to come in, Aunt Parthenia,” she said, calling attention to the summons.
But as she spoke the door slowly opened and there appeared on the threshold, the dearest, sweetest white-haired little lady that Dorothea had ever seen, who at the sight of the finery scattered about, clasped her hands in delight.
“Fal-lals!” she exclaimed. “Oh joy!”
“Oh, Imogene,” cried Mrs. May, “here are things that will delight your heart. I didn’t know you were in. But this is Susie’s daughter from England who has just arrived. I’m sure you’ll love her.”
Dorothea’s heart went out, on the instant, to this lady who, with a smile of welcome, came swiftly into the room and held out her arms.