“Be quick then! as quick as you can. I have just infused the tea, and I have lots of things to tell you. I have been so busy all day!”
And as the wearied man slowly ascended the narrow staircase, some murmured words, un-heard by his wife, escaped him. “My darling! my darling! For myself I would bear it all fifty times over to know your goodness as I do.”
A short toilette sufficed for the simple meal prepared for Mr. Baldwin in the little parlour which served him and his wife for drawing-room and dining-room in one, and in ten minutes’ time he rejoined her. The room looked wonderfully comfortable and home-like he owned to himself, and for the time being he determined to forget the worries and annoyances of the day, and respond as far as he could to the unfailing cheerfulness of his wife.
“Tell me what you have been about to-day, Marion,” he said. “You look even brighter than usual, which is saying a good deal. And that red ribbon round your neck and tying up your hair is very pretty,” he added, looking at her approvingly.
“I am glad you like it,” she replied laughing, “though in the first place it isn’t a ribbon, it’s velvet.”
“But there’s such a thing as velvet ribbon, isn’t there?” he asked gravely. “I’m sure I have heard of it.”
“Ribbon velvet you mean, you stupid Geoffrey,” she answered. “I am really afraid you’ll never do for Millington. You’re not the least of a shop-man.”
Geoffrey laughed.
“You had better take care what, you say, Marion. Imagine the horror of old Baxter if he heard you talking of his palatial warehouse as a shop!”
“But so it is, only a very big one,” persisted the incorrigible Mrs. Baldwin. “However you needn’t be afraid of my hurting the feelings of old Baxter, as you call him, or old anybody else. Not that he’s likely ever to hear me speak either of him or his shop. These Millington people are far too grand ever to take any notice of us.”