"Hawve you a bedroom set for sale?" asked the tall, thin woman who stood at the door.
I showed her the bedroom set. She examined it through a lorgnette, thumped the mattress with a long, bony hand, and demanded to know how much I was "awsking" for it.
I told her.
She bought it.
"The moving vawn will be along in an hour," she informed me briskly, and she was gone.
I addressed the kitchen sink bitterly. "Is there any particular reason," I inquired of it, "why they have to buy our most necessary possessions first? Somewhere in this city are the people who are going to buy our lamps and end tables; what are they waiting for? I suppose they're going to be sweet about it and let us have the use of them until the day before we leave."
I was in a bad mood when Grant got home from work. He started to put his lunch bucket where the kitchen table should have been. He put it on the sink instead and asked me why I looked so unhappy.
"They bought our kitchen table and our dining room set and the bedroom set," I wailed.
"For the price we wanted?"
I nodded miserably.