A SPOOL OF TWIST
The shop windows on the opening day proved most alluring to Miss Virginia. There were two,—one overlooking the square of lawn on the Terrace, the other, Pleasant Street. Between them, placed across the corner, was the door.
The Terrace window was full of plants, while on the Pleasant Street side there was a tempting display of color. Miss Virginia hunted up her distance glasses, which she seldom used, in order the better to view it; but she failed to make out anything in particular. Her ardor might have suggested an archæologist over a cuneiform inscription, as she tried to decide whether a certain patch of blue and white was a pillow or a table-cover.
Charlotte openly stopped to view the window on her way home from school, and Miss Virginia, observing it, privately questioned her.
SECURELY ENTRENCHED BEHIND THE LACE CURTAIN SHE LEVELLED HER GLASS
"You ought to go over and look in, Aunt Virginia," she said. "There are the prettiest baskets you ever saw."
Miss Virginia adored baskets.
"And there is the dearest sofa pillow."