She felt _quite_ happy when she found herself at last settled by mamma's
side in the victoria. She gave a deep sigh--it was a sigh of content--
just because she was so happy.
But mamma turned round quickly.
"My darling," she said, "is there anything the matter? Why are you
sighing so?"
Mary cuddled a little bit nearer to mamma, and looked up in her face
with a smile.
"I'm quite _dreffully_ happy, mamma dear," she said. "The breaving
comes like that when I'm dreffully happy. But oh, mamma," she went on,
with an anxious look creeping over her face, "I _hope_ we'll 'amember
all the lotses of things there is to buy!"
"I wrote them down, dear," said mamma. "You saw me?"
"Yes, but doesn't writing sometimes get rubbed out? I think I can
'amember neely all if you asked me. Did Leigh tell you all about his
reins, mamma?"
"Yes, dear. He was very particular indeed. I can't think what has put
reins in his head again. He told me some time ago that he thought he
was getting too big for playing at horses. Perhaps it's to amuse
Artie."
"I wonder," said Mary, "if p'raps it's something to do with Fuzzy."
But her mother did not hear, or at least did not notice what she said.
She had taken the paper with the list of things she had to do, out of
her bag and was looking it over.
It seemed a long way to the town to Mary. It was between five and six
miles, and she had not often driven so far, for you know she was still a
very little girl. Now and then her mamma looked at her to see if she
was getting sleepy, but every time she seemed quite bright. Her little
mind was so full of all the messages they had to do that I don't think
she _could_ have grown sleepy.
And there were a great many pretty and strange and interesting things to
notice as they went along. Mamma kept pointing them out to her and
talking about them. There were the flowers in the hedges to begin
with--some late ones were still in bloom--here and there stray sprays of
honeysuckle even, and low down, nearer the ground, there came now and
then little glimpses of pretty colours where smaller wild-flowers, such
as "ragged robin," "speedwell," "crow's-foot," and a few others were
still peeping out.
"If I were a tiny flower," said mamma, "I think I would choose my home
on the inside of the hedge--the field-side. It would be so hot and
dusty near the road."
But Mary thought it would be nice to see the carriages and carts
passing, and that it would be rather dull to see nothing but the grass,
and then she and mamma laughed at their funny fancies, as if flowers had
eyes and ears like children.
Then they passed a very queer-looking waggon lumbering along. It seemed
like a house built of baskets and straw chairs and brushes instead of
brick or stone, and Mary's mamma told her it was a travelling shop, and
that the people lived inside and had a little kitchen and a little
bedroom, and that _sometimes_ they were quite clean and tidy and nice
people. There was a tiny window with a red curtain at the side of the
waggon they passed, and Mary saw a little girl, with a nice rosy face,
peeping out at her. She nearly jumped when she saw the little girl, and
she pulled mamma to make her look.
"See, see, mamma!" she cried. "They must be nice people that lives in
that basket shop, mustn't they, for that little girl's got a clean face,
and she's smilin' so sweetly?"
"Yes," said mamma; "it looks as if she had a kind father and mother, and
I hope she has. For many poor children have quite as kind fathers and
mothers as rich children have, you know, Mary."
"Like the Perrys--the Perrys at the Lavender Cottages," said Mary.
And then she went on thinking to herself how nice it would be to live in
a "going-about house," as she called it. And she wished very much
indeed she could have seen inside the waggon.
The next thing they passed after that, was a great high carriage with
four horses; a man in a red coat was blowing a horn, and there were ever
so many ladies and gentlemen sitting up on the top. It made _such_ a
dust! Mary began to think mamma was right about the field-side of the
hedges, for even though she was a little girl in a carriage and not a
flower, she felt quite choked for a minute. Mamma told her it was a
stagecoach, and that long ago, before clever men had found out how to
make railway trains go, drawn by steam-engines instead of horses, people
were obliged to travel in these big coaches.
Mary was very much surprised. She thought there had always been
railways, but mamma had not time to explain any more about them to her,
for just then the carriage began to make a very rattling noise over the
stones, so that they could scarcely hear each other speak. They were
entering the town.
Mary looked about her with great interest. It was a long time since she
had been there, and the last day she remembered being driven through the
streets it had only been to go to the railway station. For the children
and their mother were then on their way to visit their grandmamma. That
was six months ago, half a year--before Mary's birthday, which had
brought her the wonderful present of Baby Dolly--a very long time ago.
But Mary remembered how she had wished that day to stop at the shops and
look in at the windows. And now she was not only going to look in; she
was going to _go_ in to help mamma to choose all the things she had to
buy.
It was very nice, but it seemed rather to take away her breath again to
think of all they had to do. Mary gave a deep sigh, which made her
mamma turn round.
"Mary, my dear, you are looking quite troubled," she said; "what is it?"
"It's on'y the lotses of things," said Mary.
"But you mustn't be like that, or I shall be afraid to bring you out
shopping with me," said mamma. "It will be all right, you'll see. Here
we are at the first shop--the draper's. That's right; give Thomas your
hand and get out slowly."
Thomas was quite ready to have lifted her out, but Mary did not like
being lifted. It seemed as if she was a baby. Mamma knew this, and
unless she was in a great hurry she let Mary manage for herself like a
big girl.
Mary was not like some children, who do not care about any shops except
a toy-shop and a confectioner's; she was interested in all the things
mamma had to buy, and she liked to watch the careful way mamma went
about it. She had a list all ready, and she had put the same sorts of
things together on it, so that she did not need to go backwards and
forwards from one counter to another. It was a large shop, but there
were not many people in it, so Mary climbed up on a chair and sat there
comfortably watching, while mamma chose tape and buttons and reels of
cotton and needles, and lots of what are called "small-wares."
Mary enjoyed seeing them all brought out in their neat boxes and
drawers; she thought to herself that she would like very much to have a
shop and have all these interesting things to take care of. And then,
when they moved a little farther down, to that part of the counter where
pretty silks and ribbons were hanging up--silks and ribbons of all sorts
of colours and shades--she was still more delighted.
"We are going to choose a sash for you now, Mary," said mamma.
"And ribbins to tie up Baby Dolly's sleeves. Weren't you forgetting
about the ribbins?" said Mary.
Mamma had not forgotten, but she did not say so, for she saw her little
girl was proud of remembering; and she was pleased too to see that Mary
thought of Dolly before herself.
"Yes; of course there are baby's bows to get," she said. "Thank you for
reminding me. What colour shall they be? Would you like to choose?"
The shopman--I think it was the draper himself, who knew Mary's mamma
and was pleased to wait upon her--smiled as he brought out a large box
full of ribbons of the right width for tying up babies' sleeves. There
were so many pretty colours that Mary felt as if she _could not_ choose.
"I'd like some of all of them," she said.
But mamma helped her by putting aside those that would not do. Yellow
would not be pretty for baby, she said, nor green, nor bright red, nor
deep blue or purple; and that left only the soft delicate colours--pale
pink and pale blue and very pale lilac. There were pretty white ribbons
too, with very fine little checks and spots over them, which she said
would be very nice.
So then Mary found it easier, and she chose four sets--blue, with a
little white line down the edge; and white, with a pink check over it;
and another, with tiny blue spots, and one of the pale pinky lilac. It
was like wild geranium colour, mamma said, and as Mary did not know what
that flower was, mamma promised to look for one in the fields to show
her.
Then there came the choosing of Mary's sashes. Mamma got two, and Mary
was quite pleased, for she saw that mamma was the best chooser after
all. One was pale blue, very wide, and with a white line down the side.
It was just "like the mamma of _Dolly's_ blue ribbon," Mary said, and
the other was all pink, very pretty pale pink. Mary did not like it
quite so well, but still she felt sure it would look nice, or else mamma
"wouldn't have chosened it."
It would take too long to tell you about all the things mamma bought.
After she had finished at the draper's she went to the shoemaker's and
got boots for the boys and slippers for Mary, and dear sweet little blue
silk shoes for Dolly. They were to be her very best ones, to match her
blue ribbons. Mary was so pleased that her mamma got them.
After that came the great thing of all--that was the perambulator.
There was a man in that town who made pony-carriages, and he made
perambulators too. Mamma took Mary into a large room which was all
glass at the front, and was quite filled with pony-carriages. They did
look so shiny and nice--some of them were wicker, and some were made of
wood like big carriages. Mary would have liked to get into them all,
one after the other, to see which was the most comfortable, and she
could not help thinking how very nice it would be to be a pony-carriage
man's little girl. What lovely games she and Leigh and Artie could have
in this big room! It would be even nicer than having a draper's shop.
She did not know that carriage-builders' children and drapers' children
are not allowed to play with their fathers' carriages and ribbons any
more than she and her brothers would be allowed to pull about the books
in the library, or to gather all the fruit and flowers in the garden.
They passed through the big room with the glass front to a smaller one
behind, where there were a good many perambulators. The man who had
shown them in explained to Mary's mamma about the different kinds and
told her the prices; and mamma chose three which she made the man draw
out by themselves in front of all the others.
"It must be one of those," she said; "I want a really good one, but
still rather plain and strong, as it is for the country roads."
Mary thought to herself what a good way of choosing mamma had; it makes
choosing so much easier if you put away the things that _won't_ do. And
while she was thinking this, mamma told her she wanted her to get into
the perambulator standing next, and say if it was comfortable.
"I will lift her in," she said to the man. "It's quite strong enough, I
suppose?"
"Oh, dear, yes, ma'am!" he answered. "It could bear a child twice this
little lady's weight. The springs are fust-rate."
It was very comfortable, and when Mary jigged up and down a little
gently, it felt quite "dancey," she said.
"It's the springs," the man repeated; "they're fust-rate."
Mary wondered what "fust-rate" meant. She thought she would ask her
mamma. Then she was lifted into the next perambulator--the man lifted
her in. He meant to be quite kind, but Mary did not like it, and when
at last she found herself on the floor again she stroked down her skirts
and gave herself a little shake. Mamma saw that she did not like it,
but afterwards she told Mary that sometimes it is best to hide that you
do not like things, when they are done out of kindness.
"It didn't matter to-day," said mamma, "for the man was busy talking to
me and he didn't see you shaking yourself; but you must remember for
another time."
Mary felt very sorry. She did not forget what her mamma said. Even
when she grew to be a big girl she remembered about the man meaning to
be kind, and how glad she was he had not seen her shake herself.
The other perambulators were not quite as wide as the first one. Mary
said they felt rather squeezy, so mamma fixed on the first one. But it
could not be sent home at once because the lining had to be changed. It
was brown, and the linings of mamma's victoria and pony-carriage were
dark red, and mamma liked Dolly's carriage to match. So the man
promised it should be ready in two or three days; but Mary looked at it
a great deal, because she knew Leigh and Artie would want to know
exactly what it was like.
After that they went to the grocer's, but mamma did not stay long there,
and then they went to the toy-shop to get a rattle for baby and reins
for Leigh. But neither mamma nor Mary liked the reins much. There were
some of red braid, but they were too common, and the leather ones did
not seem strong, and they were not made of the right sort of leather;
Mary was quite distressed.
"What shall we do?" she said. "Leigh will be so disappointed." She
said the word quite right, but it took her a good while.
Then mamma had a capital thought.
"I know," she said. "We'll go to the saddler's. Even if he hasn't got
any toy-reins ready he can easily make them."
And fancy--was not it lucky?--the saddler had a pair quite ready--
beauties, just like what Leigh wanted. Mamma was so pleased, and so was
Mary; though I do not think mamma would have been quite so pleased if
she had known what Leigh had in his head about the reins. Then mamma
went to the confectioner's, where she bought some very nice little cakes
for Mary to take home for the nursery tea, and, as she thought Mary
looked a little tired and must be beginning to feel hungry, she asked
for a glass of milk for her and a bun, and then she put Mary on a chair
close up to the counter, where she could reach the milk. And then, just
as she was going to pay for what she had bought, poor mamma started.
"Oh, dear!" she said, "where is my little bag with my purse in it? I
must have left it somewhere; I was carrying so many parcels."
"Mamma, dear," said Mary, "you had it at the reins' shop. I sawed it in
your hand."
"Oh, I'm so glad!" said mamma. "Then it'll be all right. I'll run back
for it. You finish your milk and bun, dear, and I will come for you as
quickly as I can."
Mary did not quite like waiting alone, but she did not want to trouble
her mother, so she said, "Very well, mamma dear."
Her milk and bun did not take long to finish, but she sat on still on
the high chair, partly because she thought her mamma would look for her
there, partly because she could not get down alone, and she was too shy
to ask to be lifted off. But mamma did not come as quickly as Mary
hoped, though the time seemed longer to her than it really was.
In a few minutes she heard the door open, and she looked up gladly,
thinking it was her mamma; but it was not. Instead of mamma in came a
rather fat lady, with two boys and a girl. The lady had a red face, and
they all talked very loudly.
"Now, what will you have, my loveys?" said the lady. "Puffs,
cheesecakes, macaroons?"
The three children pushed up to the counter and began helping
themselves. It was not a large shop, and they crushed against Mary, who
was growing very uncomfortable.
"Dear, dear," said the fat lady, "I am 'ot!" and she fanned herself with
her handkerchief. "Haven't you got a chair for me?"
The shop-woman looked at the girl who had seated herself on the only
chair besides Mary's one.
"I dare say Miss isn't tired," she said; "won't you give the lady your
chair?"
But the girl would not move.
"No," she said; "that child isn't eating anything. She can give her
chair. Put her down, Fred."
And the bigger of the boys lifted Mary roughly down from her perch
before the shop-woman could interfere, and then they all burst out
laughing, and Mary, whose face had been getting whiter and whiter,
rushed to the open door and ran with all her might down the street.