“I am afraid I ran the price of your sideboard up,” said Elizabeth stiffly.
“Not at all,” said Andy, with equal stiffness.
Then Mr. Atterton came out, and the little cart clattered away through the lilac-scented afternoon.
CHAPTER III
Nothing could be less like a messenger of Fate than a mahogany sideboard with a plate-glass back.
And yet——
“Here’s Mrs. Simpson’s little girl for the third time since seven!” said Mrs. Jebb, coming hastily into the room, with ribbon-strings all aflutter about her, as usual.
“What does she want?” said Andy, buttering his toast.
“Something about a sideboard,” said Mrs. Jebb, poised, as it were, upon one hand at the table corner. “Three times before breakfast about a sideboard! You really must make a stand, or you will never have a minute to call your own. You are too good-natured.”