“There ain’t no mortal use askin’ them blessed dears how they come here nor anythin’, till they gits rested, Jotham,” said Mrs. Beebe, taking her good man by the arm as the customer departed, and whispering violently. “And my! they’re as hungry—” she glanced around at them as she spoke.
“They better ’a’ had somethin’ more solid ’n candy,” said old Mr. Beebe, critically eying them too.
“Goodness me!” cried old Mrs. Beebe, “I wouldn’t ’a’ kept that blessed child from her pink stick a minute more’n I could help. Look at her suck it now!”
Barby’s face was wreathed in smiles, as she lay on her back, in the fullest enjoyment of her pink stick, that was rapidly melting, and adding considerable of itself to the dust that the mud-pie baking and the travel had given her small countenance.
“Time enough to give ’em somethin’ solid when they’ve got what they wanted,” said the old lady wisely. “Now, Jotham, we must let Mrs. King know as soon as we can that them childern are here. Think how she’s a-worritin’.”
“To be sure—to be sure!” exclaimed old Mr. Beebe thoughtfully; “well, how’ll we do it, Sarah. I can’t get down there, an’ now we don’t keep no horse—well, I d’no what to do.”
“We must get some one to go for us,” said Mrs. Beebe determinedly; and going to the door, she peered anxiously up and down the street. “Now, there’s them two old ladies who come over from Hingham every week or so,—the Scrannages,—I see their gig in front o’ Simons’s shop. I wonder if they’d go for us. I mean to ask ’em.”
She untied her apron, and threw it over her shoulders, it being more elegant than to go out with nothing over her waist, and waddled down the street.
The Misses Scrannage were selecting a new calico dress apiece at Mr. Simons’s shop; and he had taken them down to the extreme end, to see the beautiful new stock he had just gotten in. They were now in a complete state of bewilderment, not knowing whether or no to get a bright pink with purple spots on it for Sally, as they were afraid it wouldn’t wash, Mr. Simons solemnly assuring them every minute in which there was a lull in their consultations, that he knew for an absolute certainty that it couldn’t fade. And when this was decided and cut off, there was the choosing of Miss Belinda’s gown. She had set her heart on two shades of green worked in together, with little white dots all over the whole.
“I know that won’t wash,” declared Miss Sally scornfully; “an’ then how ’twill look when it streaks,” she was saying as old Mrs. Beebe stepped into the shop.