Mary Louise did not understand that her Danny was the rascal and worthless fellow and had asked in some astonishment “What rascal, Grandpa Jim?”
And he had answered sadly, “You poor child, I mean your husband.”
She had burst out crying and Colonel Hathaway had taken her action as proof that she was being abused by Danny and had continued his invectives against that innocent and long suffering young man. Vainly Mary Louise had endeavored to stem the flow of his abuse.
“Women always take up the defense for their worthless husbands,” he had said, “but it makes no impression on me. He is a rascal and I don’t care who knows I think so.”
Danny had overheard the remark and it had added fuel to the fires of his resentment. He had rushed from the house without waiting for dinner, and Mary Louise regretted the fact that he had given the front door an ear-splitting slam. This gave Colonel Hathaway a real grievance which be aired during the miserable meal that followed. As soon as it was over, Mary Louise had fled to the Higgledy Piggledy Shop.
“How is everybody?” called Irene as her chair rolled smoothly across the floor. It was the best one of its kind that could be bought and moved so easily that the girl could wheel herself many city blocks without the least fatigue. It was a present from Colonel Hathaway, with whom the lame girl was a great favorite. He was constantly doing something kind for her.
“We are fine,” answered Josie, “and glad to see you. A job of mending has come in that must be done immediately. It beats me how rich people wait until the last minute to attend to their own affairs and then come with a great rush for poor people to do their part. It is a set of real lace curtains—exquisite things—but there are many small breaks to be darned and Mrs. Sears wants it rushed through as fast as possible so they can be hung in time for the reception she is giving next week. She might just as well have brought them six weeks ago,” grumbled Josie.
“Well, I guess I can do them in time,” laughed Irene. “Let me see them. Why, I’ll have to appliqué these corners on net. Just see how shot with holes they are! Anyhow, it is easier to appliqué than to darn.”
“It all seems terribly hard to me. I can mend only with hammer and nails and a glue-pot,” declared Josie. “I suppose you want me to go out and match the net. Let me see the mesh.”
“That would be mighty good of you,” said Irene. “Do you want me to give you a tiny sample? I could snip it off under the casing at the top.”