Janice was a little afraid that the homely expression hit off the situation only too well. She was no coquette. She did not enjoy the thought that perhaps Nelson Haley was slightly jealous of Mr. Frank Bowman.
“Hopewell received a letter from little Lottie last night,” whispered Miss ’Rill. “Want to go ’round and read it?”
Janice nodded brightly. She was always interested in news of her little protégée. Miss ’Rill put on a fresh apron and prepared to go around to the store with her. This little lady and Hopewell Drugg were soon to be married, and their romance had long interested Janice. Miss ’Rill’s trousseau was a source of great delight to the young girl; Miss ’Rill was the first bride-to-be of whom she had ever been the confidant.
The store on the side street was a cool and inviting spot. Great trees shaded it and there was a comfortable porch at the side between the living-rooms of the widowed Mr. Drugg and the store. Here the storekeeper was wont to sit and cuddle his fiddle under his chin while he coaxed from the old strings and mellow wood the tunes of yesterday—for despite the spick and span condition of Hopewell Drugg’s store and his up-to-date stock in trade, he was not naturally a progressive person.
“Hopewell and I are behind the times, I s’pose, Janice,” the little old maid said to her friend. “We lost fifteen or twenty years of our lives. I’m not even going to let Miz’ Hutchins make my wedding gown, although there hasn’t been a wedding in this town for a score of years that she hasn’t made the bride’s dress. But she’s too fussy, and runs to new-fangled ideas. Miz’ Beasely is going to help me. She’s a good plain sewer and has a machine to run the seams on, which is a great help. I s’pose folks will talk.”
“I’m sure, Miss ’Rill, what you do about your wedding can be nobody’s business but your own,” Janice hastened to say.
“Well, I’m not so sure of that,” the little lady admitted. “I am a kind of public character, as you might say, teaching school so many years in Polktown. And Mr. Drugg, he has kept store and looks forward to keeping it right along. We can’t afford to antagonize folks. But I’ve my own ideas about what’s proper for a woman of my age to wear when she does get married.”
“And when is the wedding going to be?” asked Janice, with interest.
“Not until after little Lottie comes home from Boston,” replied the little lady. “We want her at our wedding; and the school matron writes that with her present progress, by late fall she may return for a time, at least. The dear little thing!”
This conversation brought them to Mr. Drugg’s store. Janice kept a sharp outlook for Nelson Haley, but did not see him.