As for the girl, she was surprised to see a man, and particularly a young country man, among the gloves and stockings, cheap pink underthings, and embroideries of Miss Tolman's shop.
"You got any—any aprons?" he stammered.
"White aprons or gingham?" The girl's smile helped Wesley a great deal. A very nice girl, he decided; but she made him feel queer, light-headed.
"I'm not sure, ma'am. When I come away from home this morning I asked Aunt Dolcey did she need anything, and she said 'yes, a couple of aprons,' but she didn't say what kind."
The girl thought it over. "I reckon maybe if she's your auntie she'd want white aprons."
Her mistake gave him a chance for the conversation which he felt a most surprising wish to make.
"No'm, she's not my auntie. She's the old coloured woman keeps house for me."
Oh, she was a very nice girl; something about the way she held her head made Wesley think of his spunky little riding mare, Teeny.
"H'm. Then I think you'd be safe to get a gingham; anyway, a gingham apron comes in handy to anybody working round a kitchen. We got some nice big ones."
"Aunt Dolcey's not so awful big; not any bigger'n you, but heavier set, like."