CHAPTER VIII
MRS. COPELAND’S GOOD FORTUNE
Now that they had the car, Farley insisted that Nan should go to market. His wife, like all the thrifty housewives of the capital, had always gone to market, and he thought the discipline would be good for Nan. He liked to accompany her and watch the crowd while she was doing her errands.
One Saturday, as Nan returned to the machine, with the chauffeur following with the basket, she found Fanny Copeland seated in the car beside Farley.
“Look here, Nan; I’ve picked up a surprise for you! We’re goin’ to take Mrs. Copeland home to lunch.”
“I don’t know whether you are or not,” said Mrs. Copeland. “This is my busiest day and I’ve got to catch the twelve-o’clock interurban for the farm.”
“Don’t worry about that; we’ll send you home all right,” said Farley.
“Then I’m not going to have anything to say about it at all!” laughed Mrs. Copeland. “All right; if my cows die of thirst, I’ll send you the bill.”
“You do that, and it will be paid,” Farley assented cheerfully.
“But I’ve got to stop at the bank a moment—”
“I suppose,” said Nan, “you want to get rid of the money I just paid at your stand for two yellow-legged chickens—you can see the legs sticking out of the basket.”