Nell shook her solemn little head. And she looked so sweet and old-fashioned and lovely as she did that the sisters both wanted to hug her, but the umbrellas prevented.
“Life has always seemed rather a stern and difficult business, and all I can do is to hope that I shall not prove entirely useless in carrying out my share of it,” she replied, quaintly. “You speak as though it were something to play through—and you almost make me feel that you are right.” She added this with a tiny sigh and a downward look, as though half frightened by the boldness of her conclusion.
“You bet we’re right,” said Rose. “Is this the bun-shop?”
It was. A window displayed cakes and pastries, and a sign invited those who felt the pangs of hunger to step inside.
Indoors a door led them into a neat, pretty room with a bright fire at one end, some pots of geranium blazing quite as brilliantly on the window board, a red carpet with huge bunches of yellow and green posies, and snowy curtains. A couple of tables and a number of wide-armed, comfortable chairs, with a dresser, completed the furniture of the place. At one of these tables a young man was sitting, with a pot of tea and some muffins before him.
“What a dandy room,” exclaimed the sisters, squeezing Nell’s hands in rapture. “Come close to the fire, Nell, and dry yourself, or you’ll catch an awful cold. My, you are wet!”
And they busied themselves in helping her out of her cloak and bonnet, and in sitting her before the blaze with her feet stretched out on the fender. A motherly woman came in while they were busy with this and asked them smiling, “Would they have tea?”
Nothing could be better, they said, though they felt daring, because Marmie only allowed them to have it on their birthdays, as an immense treat. But they thought the present occasion warranted a real spree.
So tea came, with buns and toasted crumpets, which had been timidly suggested by Little Nell. The motherly woman helped them draw one table close to the fire, in which she was assisted by the young man, who sprang forward, asserting loudly that lovely woman should not overburden her strength when he was present. The landlady laughed, calling him Mr. Richard.
“It’s an odd fish you are, Mr. Richard,” she said, “and no mistake. There, I think that will do nicely for the young ladies.”