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She asked herself, with a good deal of severity, why she should dread to inform Mrs. Whipp of her own plan for the afternoon. "I guess I'm free, white, and twenty-one," thought Miss Upton. But all the same she continued to cast furtive glances at Mrs. Whipp, who showed every sign of relapsing into a rocking-chair with Pearl in her lap. "It's a real pleasant day, Charlotte," she said.
"I am quite sure my son would not take any absurd and unnecessary step," she said, with such hauteur that Mrs. Whipp came out of her day-dream and realized that the great lady's eyes were flashing. Without another word the visitor turned and left the shop, her black and violet cape sweeping through living-room and kitchen and back into her machine.
She moved through the house into the shop. There was Mrs. Whipp, her head tied up in a handkerchief, bending over a packing-box. She started at a sound, raised her head, and stood amazed at the visitor's identity. "I knocked, but you didn't seem to hear me," said Mrs. Barry with dignity.
The autumn before, this woman's drunken husband, Whipp by name, had passed out of her life. She was penniless, not strong, and friendless as much by reason of her sharp tongue as by her poor circumstances.
Whipp was listening from the sitting-room, and Miss Mehitable did love peace. "Yes, yes, dear child; it'll all come out right," she said vaguely, patting the white shoulder. "I have another good helper and I want you to meet her. Come with me." She led the girl through the shop. Mrs.
Whipp cracking the air with chuckles, Mehitable rocking the store with her activities, Miss Melody enveloped in a gigantic apron and with a large smudge across her cheek, having the time of her life unpacking boxes. I was sorry to bereave them of Pete, but it won't take them long now to be ready for business." Mrs. Barry did not speak. A catbird sang in an apple tree, a call to vespers.
Whipp says it is very hard for her to move." "Yes, I know that is a pussy's nature. I like cats, but I like birds better, so I don't keep any. How nice you look here. Oh, what charming roses!" going to the nodding beauties standing in a vase on the counter. "Are those for sale? If so they're going home to Keefe." "No, Mrs. Barry, they ain't for sale," replied Miss Mehitable.
"Au revoir, then," said Geraldine, trying to speak lightly, and kissing Miss Mehitable. "I'll let you know what day I am coming back. Say good-bye to Mrs. Whipp for me." Mrs. Barry's face became inscrutable as Geraldine spoke. She had seen the counter, and the phonograph, and in fancy she could see the impending excursionists. "Good-bye, Miss Upton." And the shining motor started.
"Mine always was till you came. Of course you're such a splendid cook, Charlotte, it's kind of a temptation to you to spoil me and feed me up, yet you know I ought not to eat much." "Oh, pshaw," returned Mrs. Whipp. "More folks die from the lack o' good things than from eatin' 'em."
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