“Extremely. Extremely pretty.”
“There are going to be some tapestries presently. Oh, don’t be afraid! Not those old worsted things full of maggots, but beautiful new ones, painted by hand, all in these same delicate colors. A story in four scenes, one for each panel. The ‘Fountain of Love’ is the subject. It sounds to me like something Biblical, Sunday-schoolish, but Mr. Hunt says, no, it is not.”
“Mr. Hunt–”
“The nephew, Charlie. You know him, don’t you? He’s getting them done for me. He’s a great friend of mine. He’s helped me a lot to buy things.”
“Did he help you to buy the pictures?”
“Yes. He knows the dealers, and gets them to make fair prices. I think it perfectly wonderful how cheap everything is over here. He helped me to buy these, too.” She lifted the chain of pink corals, graduated from the size of a pea to that of a hazelnut, which with their delicate living color brightened her winter dress. “I can’t say, though,” she dropped, “that I found these particularly cheap. Hush!” she broke off. “It’s Hat! Quick!” she whispered, 91“let’s get behind the door and say ‘Boo!’ as she comes in.”
Amazingly, incredibly to him, this grown woman appeared about to ensconce herself.
“But won’t it make her jump?” he asked, supposing it to be Miss Madison for whom the little surprise was intended.
“Of course it’ll make her jump. No matter how often I do it, she jumps. That’s the fun.”
“Mrs. Hawthorne, please!” he begged nervously. “As a very special favor to me, don’t! It would make me jump, too–horribly.”