“Oh, well, you and I will have to pay it.”
“I see.”
Now Maudie was a careful soul who detested procrastination: at any time she preferred to go out in a pair of extremely dirty gloves rather than procure others by forestalling her next quarter’s money (for I must tell you that for several years these girls had had a small allowance paid quarterly which provided them with gloves and ties).
Then there set in another period of waiting. The chintz, like the wall-paper, was not in stock, and on learning this fact the two girls went round and explained to Mr. Broxby that they would just as soon choose another.
“Now, young ladies, if you would allow me to advise you,” said Mr. Broxby—“it’s the same thing to me, of course—but if you would allow me to advise you, I should say wait and have the chintz that exactly suits your wall-paper. There isn’t another chintz in the book that exactly goes with the wall-paper. If you chance on one that clashes with the paper, well, your room is spoilt at once. I’ll hurry them on all I know, but I must say that it will give me more satisfaction to make things up with a legitimate end in view.”
“There’s something in that,” said Maudie. “I should wait.”
“Very well,” said Julia, “but if I have to wait another five weeks, all I can say is, Mr. Broxby, that I shall come every morning and I shall worry you until we do get the covers.”
“Young ladies, you will not come too often to please me,” said Mr. Broxby, gallantly. At which the two girls laughed, and literally took to their heels and fled.
I won’t say that they waited quite five weeks for the chintz, but they did have to wait; and when at length Mr. Broxby announced that he had received the chintz, they had to wait yet a little time longer while the curtains and covers were put together.