CHAPTER IX

Down Town

"Don't you want to go down town for me, girls?" said Mrs. Dallas, one pleasant morning. "I can't send Bubbles very well."

"Oh, yes," said Dimple. "What are we to get?"

"Several things," replied her mother. "Go and get ready and I will tell you."

"May we take Celestine and Rubina?" asked Florence.

"I don't think I would, for you will have packages, and they will be in the way."

"Don't let's take them anyhow, Florence," said Dimple. "I was thinking this morning that their frocks are too thick for summer." So they ran off to get ready.

"Now," said Mrs. Dallas, as they came back, "I want you to go to Fink's and get me four yards of tr.i.m.m.i.n.g like this sample; if they haven't exactly like it, the nearest will do. Then I want you to get me four lemons. You may go to old Mrs. Wills for those, and if she has any fresh eggs you may get a dozen, and--oh, yes, a bottle of vanilla extract. Now don't be too long, for I shall want to use some of the things this morning."

They promised, and went off without delay. It was a pleasant July morning, and they started gaily down the street, which was shaded by trees and bordered on each side by pretty cottages, with gardens in front.

"There is Mrs. Brown," said Dimple; "let's cross over, Florence, she will be sure to stop us if we don't."

"Who is Mrs. Brown?" asked Florence.

"Oh, she's a woman," returned Dimple. "I suppose she is very nice, but she is so solemn, and is always telling me that she hopes I will grow up to be a comfort to my mother and not a care and burden; and she always says it as if there wasn't the least doubt but that I would be a care and a burden, and I don't like her. Do you know mamma and Mrs. Hardy have been friends for over twenty years, and mamma is Rock's G.o.dmother?"

"How do you know?"

"Mamma told me. I asked her how she came to know Rock's mother, and she said she used to know her when she was a little girl like me--and when they were young ladies they were great friends. Then mamma was married and came here, and Rock's mother was married and went to California.

When her husband died she came back to Baltimore to live. Here is Fink's; we have to go in here."

This was the largest dry goods shop in the town, and the clerks all knew Dimple.

"What can we do for you this morning, Miss Dallas?" said one of them, leaning over the counter.

"Mamma wants four yards of this tr.i.m.m.i.n.g," said Dimple, holding out her sample.

The man took it, turned it over to examine both sides, and took down a box.

"Four yards, did you say?"

"Yes," said Dimple.

He measured it off, saying, "Don't you want some cards? We have some just in with a lot of goods."

"I would rather have a box," said Dimple; "for I have a new doll, and I want it to put her sashes in."

"You don't object to having both, do you?" said he. "Suppose I put the cards in the box. How would that do?"

"Oh, that would be very nice," said Dimple; "you are very kind."

As he went off, she turned to Florence and said in a low tone, "I didn't like to ask him for two boxes, but I will give you the cards."

"No matter," said Florence. "I don't care very much for a box."

However, when the man returned he had two boxes with four pretty cards in each.

"Thank you so much," said the girls, highly pleased.

"He is a real nice man," said Florence, when they were in the street. "I didn't believe he would think of me."

"Yes, I think he is nice," said Dimple; "besides he has known me ever since I was a baby; he mightn't be so nice to a stranger."

They next came to a little low brown building with one window. As they went in at the door, a small bell over it tinkled and a voice said, "In a minute."

While they waited they looked about the shop, which was quite a curiosity to Florence. In the window were jars of candy, red and white, gingerbread horses, shoestrings, oranges, lemons, and dolls strung along in a line, the largest in the middle and the smallest at each end; besides these there were tops, whistles, writing paper, pencils, sc.r.a.p pictures, and a variety of other things, all jumbled up together.

Inside, the gla.s.s case and the shelves were full, and from the ceiling hung rolls of cotton in tissue paper, toy wagons, jumping-jacks and hoops.

"What a funny place," whispered Florence; but just then a funnier old woman came in. Her face looked like a withered apple, it was so wrinkled and rosy; her eyes were bright and her grey hair was combed back under a high white cap. As she came behind the counter, Florence saw that one of her hands was very much scarred, and the fingers bent. She wondered what had happened to it.

"Well, little Dallas girl, it's you, is it? And how is my pretty with her dimples and curls? Hm! Hm! Hm! The little Dallas girl," said the old woman.

"Mamma wants four lemons, Mrs. Wills," said Dimple.

"Four lemons; four--four--" said the old woman, going to a box and taking them out.

"And she wants to know if you have any fresh eggs?"

"Fresh eggs. Hm! Hm! Fresh eggs. How many? I'll see."

"A dozen if you have them."

"Well, we'll have to go and find them, little girls. Who is the other little girl?"

"My cousin," said Dimple.

"A Dallas?"

"No; her name is Florence Graham."

"Graham, Graham. A Dallas and a Graham. Come you two, then, and we'll see if we can find any eggs."

They followed Mrs. Wills through the back room into the yard. The room they pa.s.sed through was very clean, and held a stove with a little tin kettle on it, a bed with a patchwork quilt, a shining little table and several chairs with flowers painted on them.

The yard was quite a curiosity, and seemed to be given up entirely to pigeons and chickens, who made a great fuss, flying up on the old woman's shoulder and pecking at her; while an old duck waddled solemnly after, giving a quack once in a while to let them know she was there.