She did not dream of withdrawing from the rashly concluded bargain. That simple way out of the difficulty never suggested itself to her mind. "After all, could I have done any better?" she said. "Even if Sir Douglas and my aunt took more than a passing interest in me, should I be content to devote my life to them? Nay, verily!" But all her philosophy could not save her from a mauvais quart d'heure—nor from a restless wakeful night—after she had read the letter.
And yet the situation appealed irresistibly to her sense of humour.
"If only Lucy were here to enjoy it!" she said. And she found the necessary relief to her feelings in a long letter to her friend.
"I can see you turn pale at the word shop," she wrote, "as I confess I did myself; but I suppose your youthful and untrammelled imagination has taken flight at once to Parkins & Gotto or Marshall & Snelgrove. My dear, let me inform you at once that the town contains less than two thousand inhabitants; and now, will you kindly reflect on the number of cubic feet which the Parkins & Gotto and Marshall & Snelgrove of such a place would find ample for the bestowal of their wares. My own impression is, that my sitting-room would afford sufficient accommodation for both, and I am not sure that there would not be room for Fortnum & Mason to boot.
"If I only knew what I am to sell, it would be some relief. Tobacco was my first thought, but the place is not big enough to support a tobacconist. At whisky I draw the line—and yet, on second thoughts, I don't. If it is tobacco or whisky—behold my life-work! But if it is toffee and ginger-bread horses, and those ghastly blue balls—what are they for, by the way?—may the Lord have mercy upon my soul!"
She mentioned her meeting with the Munros, and the projected trip to Norway, and then—
"I hope the grocer duly congratulated you over the counter," she concluded. "I take a fraternal interest in his behaviour now, and with characteristic catholicity I have gone further afield, and have imagined the very words in which the postman delivered his tit-bit of information, I have even pictured the farmers forgetting the price of hay, and the state of the crops, in the all-absorbing topic of the hour.
"Your affectionate friend,
"MONA MACLEAN."
"And now," she said to herself, as she surveyed the alarming array of trunks and packing-cases which the servants had placed in the room,—"now I am in the position commonly described as having my work cut out for me! The valise must do for Norway, that trunk and hat-box for Borrowness, and all the rest must be warehoused at Tilbury's."
The consideration of her wardrobe provided food for some reflection and a good deal of amusement.