“What old-fashioned glass candle-sticks,” said she, going over to look at the white-glass holders with pewter sockets.
“Ain’t they awful! I’ve told Abe, many a time, that I’d throw them out, some day, and get a real nice bankit lamp fer the center table,” returned the hostess.
“And won’t he throw them away?” asked Mrs. Fabian, guilelessly.
“He says, why should we waste ’em, when they comes in so handy, in winter, to carry down cellar fer apples. He likes ’em cuz he onny paid a quarter fer ’em an’ a glass pitcher, at an auction, some miles up the road. But that wuz so long ago we’ve got our money’s wuth outen them. Now I wants a brass lamp an’ he says I’m gettin’ scandalous in my old age—awastin’ money on flim-flams fer the settin’ room. He says lamps is fer parlor use.”
Her repressed aspirations in furnishings made the woman pity herself, but Mrs. Fabian took advantage of the situation.
“I’ve needed a pair of candle-sticks for some time, and I’ll exchange a lamp for your auction bargain which you say has paid for itself, by this time.”
“What! Don’t you want your lamp?” exclaimed the lady, aghast at such a statement.
“Well, I have no further use for one, and it would look lovely on your marble-top table,” returned Mrs. Fabian.
“Well, well! How long will it take you to get it from home?” asked the woman, anxiously.
“If you really wish to get rid of the candle-sticks and jug, I’ll leave the quarter you paid originally for them and go for the lamp at once. Maybe I can be back in an hour’s time. I’ll pay for the eggs, too, and leave them until I come back,” explained Mrs. Fabian, graciously.