“Well, quite a telephone, indeed!” said Father admiringly. “Now, what can you do with this?” He laid a polished wooden stamp-box in her hand.
Betsey thought a moment. “A clock. Glue the cover down, paint a lace, stick on a pendulum—”
“And hang it on the wall!” finished Father. And he smiled over his shoulder to see Betsey change so suddenly into Mr. Betts, who must somehow sell to Mr. Delight a Grandfather’s clock,—solid oak, keeping perfect time, and extremely reasonable in price.
“Do you want to live in your new house at once, or wait until everything is done?” asked Mr. Betts.
“O live there at once, William!” pleaded Mrs. Delight. “I am just crazy to hang the curtains!”
“O.K.,” said Mr. Delight. “You get Dinah to come over to help you, and I will superintend Mr. Betts and his moving men.”
Soon the tiny drawing-room was in great confusion. Dinah and her mistress sat among great piles of net and lace, running the dainty curtains on their poles, tying them back with wide rose-colored ribbons, and getting up and down on the step-ladder to arrange the folds. Suddenly, as Betsey swung Mrs. Delight gently from the little ladder, a tiny elastic between Mrs. Delight’s arms snapped, and down fell her round right arm on the soft new carpet!
“Massa Willyum!” shrieked Dinah. “Miss Edith done broke her arm a-falling off dis yeah step-ladder! Telephone for de doctor, wid de new telephone!”
Mr. Delight rushed distractedly to the telephone. “Dr. Betson, please come immediately! Yes, my wife has broken her arm. It’s very serious indeed!”
“I will come just as soon as my motor can get there,” replied Dr. Betson.