"Sometimes in storms," returned Miss Upton cheerfully, "but we run around with pans and catch it."

Mrs. Whipp viewed her bread and b.u.t.ter gloomily, the down-drawn corner of her one-sided mouth unusually depressed.

Miss Mehitable felt a wild desire to laugh. She wished she could keep Ben Barry out of her mind during this important interview. Her kind heart administered a little comfort.

"You see, there isn't any lath and plaster to the cottage, but it's good and tight except in very bad weather," she said.

"It's a wonder you don't get rheumatics yourself," vouchsafed Charlotte.

"n.o.body thinks of such a thing in that beautiful sun-soaked place,"

returned Miss Upton.

"Sun-stroke did you say?" asked Mrs. Whipp, looking up quickly.

"No." Miss Mehitable indulged in one frank laugh. "Sun-soaked."

"Sounds more like water-logged to me from your description," said the other sourly, returning to her dinner. "I don't see why you go there."

"For two reasons. First, because I love it better than any place on earth, and second, because it's good business. I do a better business there than I do here. You think it over, Charlotte, because I ought to let Nellie know."

"Well, you can let Nellie know that I'm goin'," replied Mrs. Whipp crossly. "What sense is there in your takin' a girl to the port to go in swimmin' while you work?"

"Nellie was a very good little helper," declared Miss Mehitable, again taking refuge in her teacup. When she set it down she continued: "If you think, Charlotte, that you can make up your mind to take the bitter with the sweet, the rain and the sun, the fog and the wind, why, come along; but it don't do a bit o' good to argue with Neptune. He'll stick his fork right through you if you do."

Mrs. Whipp stared, but Miss Upton's eyes were twinkling so she suspected this was just one of her jokes.

"I never was one to shirk," she declared curtly.

"Then I can tell Nellie you want to go?"

That word "want" made Charlotte writhe and was probably accountable for the extra acidity of her reply:

"Yes, unless you're tongue-tied," she returned.

When dinner was over and the dishes washed and put away (Miss Upton's Sunday suit being enveloped in a huge gingham ap.r.o.n during the performance), Miss Mehitable watched solicitously to see if Charlotte manifested any symptoms of going out for a const.i.tutional. 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. "Ain't you goin' to walk?"

Mrs. Whipp yawned. "Dunno as I am."

"I've got to go out again," pursued Miss Mehitable intrepidly, but she felt the dull gaze that at once turned and fixed upon her. "I've got to see Ben Barry about some business that came up in the city yesterday."

"I knew you had something on your mind last night," returned Mrs. Whipp, triumphantly. "I notice you wouldn't tell _me_."

"You ain't a lawyer, Charlotte Whipp."

"Neither is that young whipper-snapper," rejoined the widow, "but then of course he's a Barry."

"You do try my patience dreadfully, Charlotte," declared Miss Mehitable, her plump cheeks scarlet. "If you didn't know when you came here that Mrs. Barry is one o' the best friends I've got in the world, I'll tell you so now. You needn't be throwin' 'em up to me just because they've got money. I'm goin' there whenever they ask me, and this afternoon's one o' the times."

She felt like a child who works its elbows to throw off some hampering annoyance. How her companion managed to hold her under the spell of domination which seemed merely a heavy weight of silent disapproval, she did not understand. It always meant jealousy, Miss Mehitable knew that, and usually her peace-loving, sunny nature pacified and coaxed the offended one, but occasionally she stood her ground. She knew that presently the Barry car would again draw up before her gate and she felt she must forestall Charlotte's sneers.

"How soon you goin'?" inquired the latter mildly.

"At three o'clock," returned Miss Upton bravely.

"Let me fix your collar," said Charlotte, rising; "your ap.r.o.n rumpled it all up."

"Why can't I remember to bully her oftener?" thought Miss Mehitable. "It always does her good just like medicine."

Promptly at three Ben Barry jumped out of his car before Miss Upton's Emporium, and Mrs. Whipp dodged behind the window-curtain and watched them drive away.

"I saw that cute Lottie looking after us," said Ben.

"Poor thing, I kind o' hate to leave her on a Sunday," said Miss Upton, sighing.

"'The better the day, the better the deed,'" remarked her companion.

"You've got me all het up about you and your umbrella. What's my part?

To keep you out of the lock-up? Whom did you 'sault 'n' batter? When are you going to tell me?"

"You see that's one thing that's the matter with Charlotte," said Miss Mehitable. "She does hate to think I'm keepin' anything from her and she felt it in the air."

"Do you believe she'll visit you in prison? I'll address the jury myself. I maintain that one punishment's enough. You at least deserve a holiday. Say, Mehit, me dear, I've a big surprise for you, too. You know I told you I warned mother to have no guests this afternoon."

"Yes, you said you wanted to write poetry--Ben"--the speaker suddenly grasped the driver's coat-sleeve--"I never thought of it till this minute, but, Ben Barry"--Miss Upton's voice expressed acute dismay--"are you in love?"

"Why, does it mean so much to you, little one?" responded Ben sentimentally.

"You wouldn't take near as much interest, not near as much if you've got a girl on your mind."

"One? Dozens, Mehit. I'm only human, dear."

"If it's dozens, it's all right," returned Miss Upton, relieved.

"There's always room for one more in that case, but what is your surprise, then, Ben?"

"I didn't want to be alone to write poetry. I wanted to gloat, undisturbed. My dandy mother is giving me something I've been aching to have."

Miss Upton's face brightened. "Yes, I know. Something's being built way back o' your house. Folks are wonderin' what it is. It looks like some queer kind of a stable. What in the world can you want, Ben! You've got the cars and a motor-cycle, and a saddle-horse."

"Well"--confidentially--"don't tell, Mehit, but I wanted a zebra. Horses are too commonplace."

"But they can't be tamed, zebras can't," returned Miss Upton, much disturbed. "I've read about 'em. You'll be killed. I shall--"

"I _must_ have a zebra and a striped riding-suit to be happy. While you're wearing the stripes in jail I'll come and ride up and down outside your barred window and cheer you up."

"I don't believe it's a zebra," declared Miss Mehitable; "but if it is I shall tell your mother you cannot have it, Ben Barry."