“One box lemons,
Four dozen candles,
Four dozen Pontet Canet,
Six pounds tobacco–”
“Good!” said Pats. “Just what we need.”
“Four pounds coffee,
Four boxes matches,
One pocket-knife,
Six pairs woollen socks,
Six old maids–”
“Six what?”
“Six old maids: vieilles filles–that is certainly old maids.”
“Yes, but, Heavens! What does he want so many for? And where are they? In the cellar?”
She smiled, still regarding the paper. “But you needn’t worry. They are something to wear. It says six old maids, extra thick and double length.”
“Double length! Well, each man to his taste. Go on.”
“That is all,” and she dropped the paper on the table and looked up into his face. Thoughtfully he stroked the three days’ beard upon his chin. He was watching through the open door the last clouds of mist as they floated by, driven before the wind.