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We saw you drive away but we had to come now for Miss Thorley's going to be so awfully busy that she couldn't come for weeks and weeks." "Is she?" Mr. Jerry looked oddly at Miss Thorley, but Miss Thorley refused to look at him. "The best laid plans of mice and men," he said meaningly and paused until Mary Rose squeezed his hand. "Are you telling her about George Washington?" she whispered.
A goodly number of them slipped into Miss Thorley's face and dyed it pinker than her girdle. A flame was lighted in Mr. Jerry's eyes and he stepped quickly forward. She shrank back behind the high morris chair and he stopped suddenly.
"I think I can tell that story better than Aunt Mary." And lo and behold, there was Mr. Jerry himself in the doorway, an unusual color in his brown cheeks, a reproachful look in his eye. Miss Thorley's face had more color than usual, also, as she bowed coldly, but Mary Rose flew to take his hand. "I'm so glad you came back.
"It seems perfectly ridiculous that you were living right next door and I never knew it." "And you might not know it now if it hadn't been for Mary Rose and that canary of hers. Gee! I'm glad I took her that box of chocolates." With Jenny Lind's cage in her hand, Mary Rose knocked at Miss Thorley's door. "We've come to have our pictures taken," she told Miss Carter, when she opened it.
He sighed and looked at Miss Thorley, who stroked George Washington's gray overcoat and refused to lift her eyes to meet his. "If they could they'd have old heads on young shoulders, perhaps," suggested Mary Rose. "You wouldn't like that, would you? Just suppose Mrs. Schuneman's head was on Miss Thorley's shoulders. How would you like that?" "I shouldn't like it at all.
Mercer, laying his finger significantly against the side of his unpretending nose. I had not the faintest comprehension of my revered uncle-in-law's meaning; but I said, "O, indeed!" with the accents of admiration. "Thorley's Condiment," said my uncle. "You'll see some fine animate at the Cattle-show; but if you see a two-year-old ox to beat him, my name is not Joe Mercer."
The room looked like Thorley's this morning." Mrs. Wintermill could not stand it any longer. "What have you done with them, my dear?" Anne enjoyed being veracious. "I took a whole truckload up to my sister- in-law. She's going to have a baby." Her visitor stiffened. "I was not aware that you had a sister-in-law. Mr. Thorpe was especially free from relatives." "Oh, this is George's wife.
"That message isn't for me," she told Mary Rose. "Independence and I are strangers. I can't bear the thing. I quite agree with Mr. Jerry that she is an old witch. Isn't someone a picture, Bess," she asked, "with her birdcage and checked apron?" "She surely is." The impatient frown that had marred Miss Thorley's face at the mere mention of Mr. Jerry's name slipped away. "I must paint her.
It was a superb bouquet, nearly as big as Mr Saltzburg himself. It had cost the prima donna close on a hundred dollars that morning at Thorley's, but it was worth every cent of the money. The house-lights went up. The audience began to move up the aisles to stretch its legs and discuss the piece during the intermission. There was a general babble of conversation.
I had just four hours for shopping, scurrying about after cook-books and golf-boots and table-linen and a chafing dish, and a lot of other absurd things I thought we'd need on the ranch. And then off we flew for the West, before poor, extravagant, ecstatic Dinky-Dunk's thirty-six wedding orchids' from Thorley's had faded and before I'd a chance to show Fanny my nighties! Am I crazy?
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