Ethel knew that very well, but she wanted still more to buy the willow chair for her mother. She put the gold piece into her purse with the rest of her money, saying to herself that a person so careful in money matters as every one said Mr. Beckford was, would never have made such a mistake, and that he must have done it on purpose. Still she did not feel easy about it, and it was not with a very light heart that she set out to make her purchases, intending first to do some errands for the family: for Ethel had learned to be quite a little market-woman, and could judge very sensibly between different qualities of sugar and tea!
She sighed as she concluded her list of small purchases at the family grocer's, thinking of the large orders they had been accustomed to make at this time of the year.
Perhaps Mr. Mortimer thought of it too, for he said: "Is that all, Miss Ethel? We have some very nice preserved ginger, such as your mother likes: shall I send a jar of it?"
"No, thank you," said Ethel blushing. "We cannot afford such things now," she added quite bravely.
"The times are hard, really quite hard," remarked polite Mr. Mortimer. "We do not sell nearly so much of such goods as we did last year. Won't you take an orange, Miss Ethel? I know you are fond of oranges."
Ethel had known good Mr. Mortimer ever since she could run alone, so she had no hesitation about choosing an orange from the basket that he handed her.
As soon as she left the shop, he called to the porter: "David, you carry these things directly up to Mrs. Fletcher, and carry a jar of that ginger. Say Mr. Mortimer sends it with his respects to Mrs. Fletcher. Come, look alive, will you?"
Meantime Ethel proceeded on her way, and having finished all her errands, she turned towards the shop, where she had seen the chairs, only stopping now and then to ask the price of some article at a door or window. It was a very large establishment where the chairs were kept, and there was a fine assortment of them. The little stained willow chairs which had at first pleased her so much, looked cheap and ordinary by the side of the carved rosewood, mahogany, and walnut; and chintz covers were hardly to be thought of while looking at brocatelle and velvet.
She looked from one to another, and finally found one which exactly resembled her mother's. She inquired the price.
"That is a second-hand chair, Miss," replied the shopman. "It was originally very expensive, but it has been used some, and I will let you have it for three dollars."