"Well, why the dickens didn't you say so?" burst out the giver.
"I did, dear. As plainly as I could speak."
"Never heard a word!"
"Because you weren't listening. I told you so at the time. Now what am I
to do?" and, in her worry over the contretemps, Mary quite forgot to
thank her husband for the trouble he had been to on her behalf.
"Get another gown to go with them."
"Oh, Richard. . . how like a man! After all the time and money this one
has cost me. No, I couldn't do that. Besides, Agnes Ocock is wearing
pink and wouldn't like it." And with a forehead full of wrinkles she
slowly began to replace the articles in their sheaths. "Of course
they're very nice," she added, as her fingers touched the delicate
textures.
"They would need to be, considering what I paid for them. I wish now I'd
kept my money in my pocket."
"Well, your mistake is hardly my fault, is it, dear?" But Richard had
gone off in a mood midway between self-annoyance and the huff.
Mary's first thought was to send the articles to Jinny with a request to
exchange them for their counterparts in the proper colour. Then she
dismissed the idea. Blind slave to her nursery that Jinny was, she would
hardly be likely to give the matter her personal supervision: the box
would just be returned to the shop, and the transfer left to the
shop-people's discretion. They might even want to charge more. No, another
plan now occurred to Mary. Agnes Ocock might not yet have secured the
various small extras to go with her ball-dress; and, if not, how nice it
would be to make her a present of these.
Pages:
448
449
450
451
452
453
454
455
456
457
458
459
460
461
462
463
464
465
466
467
468
469
470
471
472