"But you will be afraid to go up there in the dark. No, I think perhaps you had better let it be. However, I assure you that the last time I was here I lost fifteen cents in the strangest way. I never could account for it."
"Perhaps you spent it, and then forgot about it," suggested Percy. "One does sometimes. I know I paid twenty-five cents yesterday for something, and I can't remember what it was."
Cousin Sarah here began to put Percy through a series of questions relating to her aunt Devine, her father and mother, her school, and other things which diverted her from her fears, till Mrs. Ackerman and Margaret came home. Then came another trouble. She was sure she never should dare to sleep alone, and in the third story, too. What if there should be a fire, and she should not wake till it was too late to save herself. What if a robber should come in? He would be sure to go up-stairs first of all. The matter was finally settled by Margaret's giving up her own room to her cousin, and sleeping with her mother.
"Dear me, what a fuss she does make," thought Percy, as, after she was in bed, she heard Cousin Sarah fretting about the gas and the fire, and the window fastenings, &c. "I wonder if I am as silly as that? I declare I'll never borrow any more trouble; not if I never have any," thought the little girl, sleepily.
The next day at breakfast, Cousin Sarah announced that she had a great deal of shopping to do; and she must have Margaret to go with her, as she never could trust herself in those dreadful New York shops alone. Margaret looked at her mother with a glance which said plainly, "What shall I do?"
"I believe Margaret will be wanted at the Asylum this morning, cousin," said Mrs. Ackerman. "Will not Percy and myself do as well?"
"But I wanted Margaret's judgment," answered Cousin Sarah. "I always expect to be cheated. I want to buy a poplin and an American silk; and as likely as not they will make me take one that is half cotton; and I don't think you are a judge of cotton in things, Cousin Julia: I really don't, because there was that shawl, you know. I never put it on or take it off without expecting to see it all faded in streaks."
"I think you will have to rely upon me, or else put off your shopping till to-morrow, cousin," replied Mrs. Ackerman, without a trace of ill-temper or annoyance; "because, really, Margaret cannot be spared. I don't think you need be afraid of being cheated at any of the respectable stores. I have bought dry goods at Stewart's ever since I was married, and I have never been imposed upon in a single instance. Percy, my dear, will you ring the bell?"
All that morning, Percy wondered at the patience of her aunt. She herself was very well entertained, looking at the pretty things in the shops, or sitting in the carriage with her book; but Aunt Ackerman must look at and pronounce upon every piece of goods half a dozen times over. Cousin Sarah at last made up her mind to buy a silk and a poplin, after having looked at, at least a hundred pieces of each; but no sooner were they cut off and paid for, than she regretted her choice, and wished all the way home that she had bought the black silk instead of the blue, because blue was apt to fade, and the green poplin instead of the black, because black poplin was no dress at all. After they had finished their shopping, they went to Bigot's to lunch; and here Cousin Sarah would not take any chocolate, because she had heard that chocolate was shockingly adulterated, nor any stewed oysters, because she had been told that they always used the stale oysters to make the stews; and having finally disposed of a large glass of calves-foot jelly, she remembered having read that such jelly was always made of gelatine, which was manufactured out of horses' hoofs and the parings of sheepskins. After lunch, Mrs. Ackerman asked Cousin Sarah, whether she would like to go home, or whether she had any more to do.
"I want to make a call in Brooklyn; and it is such a pleasant day, I think Percy will enjoy the ride and crossing the ferry: won't you, my dear?"