“If we had a new edge to replace this dreadfully frayed one, we might make these curtains answer for the present,” she thought aloud, rather than said, and the sentence closed with that much-worked word “but,” which is capable of eloquently leaving unsaid many things.
“Oh, mother!” was Florence’s dismayed protest, but Ray intercepted her.
“I’ll crochet an edge for them. Don’t you know that little lace edge I made for Jean’s waist? With coarser cotton it would make a pretty curtain trimming, and the pattern is so simple I can make it very fast. I’ll begin it to-night; I have the cotton.”
“Florence,” said Mrs. Forman, “if I should declare that I didn’t know how to get along another day without a new house, don’t you think Ray would say, ‘I’ll make you one?’”
By way of answer Florence said grimly that if Ray had been one of those old Israelites she would have had no trouble at all in making bricks without straw.
Then the front door opened and closed with a bang, and Derrick’s shout was heard through the hall. “Mother! Ray! where are you all? Say, mother, don’t you think they are coming to-day, on the two-fifty!”
“Who are?” Florence asked, appearing at the head of the stairs.
“Uncle Evarts and Aunt Elsie, and I don’t know how many more. Where’s mother? Say, mommie, daddy had a telegram; here it is; he sent over to our school for me to get excused and skip home with it and stay here and help. What do you want first?”
By this time Mrs. Forman had the telegram in hand and read it aloud: “Compelled to go East to-night; must bring Elsie. Reach Welland afternoon train Friday. Evarts.”
“The idea!” said Florence. “Isn’t that cool? He hasn’t even given us time to write and say that she could come.”