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Updated: May 23, 2025
"Your little girl was so kind as to say that she would go and call you; and while we were waiting we thought we would look at this curious old " "We! are there more of you, then?" demanded Miss Colishaw, glaring into the closet as if she expected to see other audacious visitors concealed in its depths. Finding none, she closed the door and turned its stout wooden button with a good deal of energy.
It's she who ought to be sorry," returned Miss Colishaw, and banged the door behind her as she passed through. "What a horrid old person!" said Mrs. Joy, who looked heated and vexed. "I never met any one so impertinent. And such a fool, too! Why, she takes in sewing, I am told, or makes cake, some of those things.
"It's a very good attic, and it's stuffed full of old things. There's a fender and two pairs of fire-dogs " Mrs. Joy's eyes sparkled. "Oh, do let us go up and see it!" she cried. "No, you don't!" said Miss Colishaw, taking a firmer grasp of the baluster. "There's a wool-wheel, and a flax-wheel, and a winder, and three warming-pans " "Dear me! What a delightful place!" put in Mrs. Joy.
"Mine ain't fashionable manners, I know; but I guess they're about as good." She opened the front door, and held it suggestively wide. Mrs. Joy swept through. "Come, Miss Arden," she called back over her shoulder. Candace could do nothing but look as apologetic as she felt. "I'm so sorry," she murmured, as she passed Miss Colishaw. "You haven't done anything.
Joy, settling the wrists of her long gloves. "You're very poor, and these old things are no use to you in the way you live; and you'd far better take the money they would bring, and make yourself comfortable." Miss Colishaw was now pale with anger. "And who told you I was poor?" she demanded. "Did I ever come a-begging to you?
"It ain't for sale," said Miss Colishaw, decidedly, putting the pitcher again into the closet, and leading the way into the parlor. Candace, who had heard all, and was feeling awkward and guilty to the last degree, rose as they entered, and courtesied to Miss Colishaw.
"Dear me, what a shame! where is she?" demanded the visitor, in an aggrieved tone, as if Miss Colishaw had no right to be out when wanted by the owner of such a fine equipage. "She's over to old Miss Barnes's. She's sick," replied the little girl. "Who's sick? old Miss Barnes? And where does she live?"
"There's lots and lots of old truck," continued the implacable Miss Colishaw. "It all belonged to my mother and my grandmother and her mother before her. It's all up there; and there it's going to stay, if all the rich ladies in Newport come down to try to wheedle me out of it. Not a soul of them shall set foot in my attic." "Well, I must say that I think you very foolish," said Mrs.
"I know that it was my mother's yeast-pitcher, and that's all that I care to know," replied Miss Colishaw, grimly, taking it out of her hand. "I use it to keep corks in." "Corks! How amusing! But it's really a nice old piece, you know. I'd like to buy it if you don't care any more for it than that. You could put your corks in something else just as well."
"Oh, Collishan or Collisham, some name like that. She lives in Third Street." "It must be old Miss Colishaw. Are you sure she wants to sell her china?" asked Mrs. Gray, who as a child had spent many summers in Newport before it became a fashionable watering-place, and knew the townspeople much better than did Mrs. Joy. "I believe so; why shouldn't she?
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