Dimbie and I—and Amelia

by Mabel Barnes-Grundy

"Your mother and I are going for a stroll. Do you want anything from the village?"

My stare was rude, I fear. It was certainly the first time I had ever heard Peter ask if anybody wanted anything.

"Thank you," I began, "it is very good of you." I cast round in my mind for some requirement—soap, candles, Shinio, oatmeal, pearl barley, gelatine, potatoes, all the various things Amelia spent her life in requiring—but we were not "out" of any of them. Peter was waiting; his kindly intention must not be nipped in the bud at any cost. "Chips!" I cried with illumination.

"Chips?"

"Firewood. Hudson's Dry Soap boxes."

Peter clutched at his understanding.

"Amelia chops them up," I explained.

"He can't carry soap boxes home," whispered Dimbie. "Couldn't you want darning wool?"

Of course, darning wool was one of the most useful things in the world.

"Please bring me two cards of darning wool," I said aloud. "You will get them at the candle shop."