"I will, with pleasure."
"Just go into Mr Brown's," she said, "and ask him if he still has green ribbon like what he sold me for my bonnet last year. The strings are quite worn out. I think a yard and a half should do. I'll give you a pattern."
Mona fervently wished that the bit of business could have been transacted in any other shop, but it would not do to draw back from her promise now.
As she passed along the high street of Kilwinnie, she saw Miss Brown's face at the window above the shop, and she bowed as she crossed the street. Mr Brown was engaged with another customer, so Mona went up to the young man at the opposite counter, thankful to escape so easily. But it was no use. In the most barefaced way Mr Brown effected an exchange of customers, and came up to her, his solemn face all radiant with sudden pleasure. His eyes, like those of a faithful dog, more than atoned at times for his inability to speak.
"How is Miss Simpson?" he asked. This was his one idea of making a beginning.
"She is very well, thank you," and Mona proceeded at once with the business in hand.
They had just settled the question, when, to Mona's infinite relief, Miss Brown tripped down the stair leading into the shop.
"Won't you come up-stairs and rest for ten minutes, Miss Maclean?" she said. "We are having an early cup of tea. No, no, Philip, we don't want you. Gentlemen have no business with afternoon tea."
Mona could not have told what induced her to accept the invitation. She certainly did not wish to do it. Perhaps she was glad to escape on any terms from those pathetic brown eyes.
Mr Brown's face fell, then brightened again.