"Mrs. Xerxes! You never told him?"
"Bless you, my dear; he meant his fainting. I was mum about the money."
Madge nodded, much relieved, and resumed her way.
Her destination was within easy reach of Marigold Place. It was a stately red-brick house, one of a fashionable avenue, the blue window-boxes gaily crowded with white and scarlet flowers. The upholsteress was shown into the young ladies' boudoir. Two pretty girls were standing at a table, looking through a book of patterns in cretonne. They were twin sisters, and always spoke together. When the servant announced "The young person from Mrs. Xerxes'," both turned on Madge.
"Do you think you could upholster a cosy corner for us—Miss Barberry, isn't it? Then we want curtains to match. Can you make curtains? Which of these cretonnes will look best? How many yards will it take? May we stay and watch you work?"
Madge contrived to give lucid answers to all their questions, and proved invaluable to the sisters, who were delighted with her. They wasted a whole morning discussing and suggesting; but Madge had her dinner, and they insisted on her staying to tea also.
She went home at six. Mrs. Xerxes darted out of the kitchen, pointing mysteriously over her shoulder.
"He's in there."
"Who?"
"Mr. Vespan. I got him downstairs for a change. Suppose you go in and see him?"