“Do they? I’m glad to hear you say so,” sighed Miss Townsend, once more picking up a small box of notions. “You must excuse me, my dear. You see the habit of a life time—”
“Oh, that’s all right, Miss Townsend, I didn’t mean to hurry you,” spoke up Nancy. “But the morning goes so quickly, and mother may come home to lunch.” This possibility brought real anxiety to Nancy. If she had only slicked up the kitchen instead of arguing with Teddy. After all the plagued old housework did take some time, she secretly admitted.
But Miss Townsend laid down the unfinished roll of lace edging, although she had most carefully rolled all but a very small end, walked over to Nancy, who was just attempting to dust out a tray, and in the most tragic voice said:
“Nancy, I think you really have a lot of sense.”
Nancy chuckled. “I hope so, Miss Townsend.”
“I mean to say, that I think you can be trusted.”
“Well,” stammered Nancy, forcing back another chuckle, “I hope so, to that too, Miss Townsend.” She was surprised at the woman’s manner and puzzled to understand its meaning. The dog was again snoozing on the rug.
“Let’s sit down,” suggested Miss Townsend.
“Oh, all right,” faltered Nancy, in despair now of ever catching up on the delayed work.
“You see, it’s this way,” began the woman, making room for herself in the big chair that was serving as storage quarters for Teddy’s miscellany. “Some people are very proud—”