“Finished,” said Norah, with brief thankfulness.
“Well, you ought to be,” said Wally, surveying her load. “Women were given eight fingers and two thumbs, so that they could hang parcels on each! I think you’ve done pretty well, young Norah. Where’s Jean?”
“Oh, Jean’s having a horrible time!” Norah answered, much concerned for the fate of her chum. “I wish you’d go and see if you could help her, Wally—you see, she’s so short, and she can’t get fixed up. I’ll hold your parcels.”
“I feel like a knight errant,” said Wally, handing over many bundles. “It takes no common order of courage to tackle that maëlstrom after having escaped from it once. However, with a damsel in distress it’s got to be, I suppose. Sure you can hold ’em all, Nor.? Where is the hapless wight I’ve to rescue?”
“She’s over there—you can get glimpses of her hat,” Norah said. “At the haberdashery place.”
“I’ve always wondered what that meant,” Wally said. “It’s got a sporting sort of sound about it, hasn’t it? Now, I’ll find out, I suppose, and probably my young illusions will be dashed to the ground—it really sounds the kind of place to buy polo sticks, but I don’t fancy that’s Jean’s business. Well, here goes! Oh, by Jove! She’s coming, Norah!”
Jean came, very red and indignant, with a knitted brow.
“I’ve had a perfectly awful time!” she gasped. “There isn’t an unbruised bit of me! And I can’t get what I want—I’ve been trying for ages to buy a belt buckle, and all the horrid woman has sold me is curling pins!” She held out a small parcel tragically. “And I don’t even use them!” she finished—whereat her hearers shrieked unsympathetically.
“Oh, Wally, go and make them take them back,” Norah begged, recovering calmness. “Go with him, Jean, and show him the buckle you want—he’ll manage it.”
“Not for me, thank you,” said her chum decisively. “I wouldn’t plunge in there for forty-eight buckles! I’ll go to another shop and try. What am I going to do with those horrible pins? They were sixpence!”