He nodded emphatically, and continued to look on with interest while Norah hung soft-tinted fabrics over a convenient rack, and brought out baskets of all colors and shapes.

It was clearly James Mandeville's fault that Miss Wilbur was unable to preserve that distant manner which was the only proper att.i.tude toward this objectionable shop. When he laid his plump hand on hers and looked up at her in silent good fellowship, she felt a thrill of pleasure. Could any one refuse a child's offer of friendship? Not Miss Virginia, certainly. She bent and touched his cheek with her lips.

James Mandeville, moved to further demonstration, brought the donkey and laid him on her lap.

"Don't show me anything more," she said, patting the donkey.

"Everything is beautiful. I really didn't come expecting to buy, but I must have one of these collars." She laid a bit of embroidery against her sleeve and looked down at it thoughtfully.

The sunlight fell slantingly across the room, gleaming in James Mandeville's short curls and emphasizing all the cosiness and pleasantness of her surroundings. The spirit of friendliness grew strong in Miss Virginia. She felt in no haste to leave.

While Norah searched for something in one of the cases, Miss Wilbur peeped around the chair back at the occupant of the window who was employing herself with knitting. She was not--so Miss Virginia thought--as attractive as her a.s.sociate, although she could not be called ordinary. Meanwhile James Mandeville investigated her shopping bag with absorbed interest.

The opening of the shop door interrupted her thoughts, and before she had time to push aside the draperies which, disposed upon the rack, intervened between her and the door, she heard a cool, clear voice announce, "I wish a spool of twist--black if you please."

Miss Virginia gazed wildly toward the door at the other end of the room, her first impression being that Caroline had come in search of her. The next moment she realized with surprise and amus.e.m.e.nt that her sister had come altogether on her own account and had asked for the very same thing she herself had thought of purchasing. Miss Virginia braced herself for the inevitable encounter, and when Miss Norah returned, thanked her for her kindness in showing so many of her wares, and selected one from the collars before her. The while she heard her sister's voice.

"Do you consider this a good locality for a shop?" Mrs. Millard asked.

"It seems to me quite otherwise, and I think it the only proper course to tell you that the neighborhood strongly objects to such an intrusion."

Miss Virginia felt her face grow hot.

"Isn't it a little late to tell us this?" The tall young woman who had put down her knitting to serve the newcomer seemed not a whit abashed at Mrs. Millard's manner. If anything, she was the more queenly of the two, and might have been bestowing a favor as she handed back the change.

Norah's sunny face intervened, "We are very sorry if you don't want us," she said, "for we shall have to stay for the present. We think we are quite as nice as a drug store, and perhaps we shall be able to convince you of it before long."

Could Caroline hold out against such winning address? What she might have said or done was never known, for James Mandeville, desiring to see what was going on, and attempting to crawl under the rack with its burden of fabrics, precipitated it upon himself and was lost in the ruins, while Miss Virginia was revealed in all her ignominy, with a flannel donkey in her lap, to the eyes of her relative.

"Virginia! I am astonished!"

Miss Wilbur rose to the occasion. "So am I, Caroline. I, too, came to get a spool of twist." There is good authority for the a.s.sertion that one may smile and be a villain, but hitherto such depths of perfidy had been unsuspected in Miss Virginia.

The united efforts of the shopkeepers were required to disentangle James Mandeville and quiet his cries of alarm. In the struggle Miss Wilbur's bag suffered a complete upturn, and her small change was scattered to the four corners of the room.

Mrs. Millard stood apart looking on in disdain at the confusion, when again the shop door opened, this time to admit Miss Sarah Leigh who advanced and addressed her, fumbling in her pocket-book meanwhile and not lifting her eyes. "I want a spool of twist," she said, producing a sample of blue silk. "Why, Caroline Wilbur!" and she stared in amazement.

Norah who had set James Mandeville, still weeping, out of harm's way on the table, met Miss Sarah's bewildered gaze with a frank smile, as if she appreciated the joke.

"Do you call this a shop?" Miss Sarah demanded; adding, "Well, if there isn't Virginia! Are Judge Russell and Mr. Goodman hiding somewhere? Is this a conspiracy?"

"I'll explain later," said Mrs. Millard, with dignity. "Virginia, are you ready?"

As they crossed Pleasant Street together, Miss Sarah was disposed to make merry at Mrs. Millard's expense, but that lady's haughtiness was extreme. There was nothing funny in her actions. She had gone to the shop with a purpose, thinking it only the part of fairness to tell them frankly they were not wanted in the neighborhood.

"That is what I thought of doing," said Miss Virginia. But who can blame her sister for looking incredulous.

"Well, I'm going again," said Miss Sarah, pausing at the gate. "It is an interesting place."

Miss Virginia agreed with her, and yet she was beginning to feel a little doubtful about her own behavior this afternoon. She feared she had not been quite dignified.

"Sarah Leigh was never a person of very strong convictions," her sister remarked, as they waited at the door.

"Why, I don't know, Caroline,--perhaps they are just different."

"Really, I don't understand you, Virginia," was Mrs. Millard's response, nor did she manifest any desire for enlightenment.

Miss Virginia felt that her conduct that afternoon was embraced in her sister's remark, and that it would be quite hopeless to try to explain.

CHAPTER EIGHTH

A MATTER OF LOYALTY

Mrs. Millard's irritation was not long in bearing fruit. On the hall table lay a card, and pausing on her way upstairs she examined it through her jewelled lorgnette. Charlotte, halfway down, leaned over the rail and watched her, admiring the sweep of her gown, the perfection of the gloved hand that held the card.

One might object to Aunt Caroline's methods and rebel against her mandates, and yet not be blind to the exquisite perfection of her appearance and belongings. Charlotte had privately borrowed one of Aunt Virginia's skirts, and practised before the cheval gla.s.s, but the flowing lines that so much pleased her she found unattainable.

"Miss Lucile Lyle," Mrs. Millard read aloud.

"It is for me, Aunt Caroline," said Charlotte, from above. "I have been walking with Miss Alex and missed her."

"Which is rather fortunate than otherwise; for," Mrs. Millard tapped the card with her gla.s.s, "I desire you not to make a friend of this young lady."

Charlotte sat down on the step. "Does that mean I am to be rude to her?"

"Certainly not. There are ways of letting people know you do not care for their society without being rude."

"I don't see how you can do it without being unpleasant," argued Charlotte; "and I like Lucile."

"That last fact has nothing to do with it. It is important at your age to form proper friendships. This I do not consider desirable, and I expect you to be guided by me."

"What am I to do?" Charlotte persisted.

"I see no occasion to do anything."

"She will think it rude if I do not go to see her."

"What she thinks is of little moment. You can say your aunt does not care to have you make visits while you are occupied with your studies."

"But she knows I have been to see the Mays."

"Well, really, Charlotte, I cannot argue the question further. I simply expect to be obeyed in the matter." With this final utterance Mrs. Millard swept past her.

Charlotte had come in from her walk in good spirits. She felt it an honor to be chosen as a companion by a grown young lady, and Miss Alex had been very entertaining as they walked about the park under the beech trees. In these days Charlotte's ideals were in an unstable state. On the one hand, she admired Lucile, longed to be Carlotta and the heroine of romantic adventures. On the other, she recognized a certain distinction in Alexina's severe style, and felt proud of her notice.

This afternoon Alex's influence had been in the ascendant. She had shown a flattering interest in all Charlotte told about her life at Aunt Cora's and the Landors'. She had read some of Cousin Frank's stories and poems and admired them, making Charlotte proud of being even distantly related to him.

"It must be splendid to do things," Alex said. "To feel that you have your own special work to do in the world."