The next morning dawned clear and bright, and Miss Pickett rose even
earlier than usual. She found it most difficult to decide which of her
dresses would be best to wear. Summer was still so young that the day
had all the freshness of spring, but when the two friends walked away
together along the shady street, with a chorus of golden robins
singing high overhead in the elms, Miss Pickett decided that she had
made a wise choice of her second-best black silk gown, which she had
just turned again and freshened. It was neither too warm for the
season nor too cool, nor did it look overdressed. She wore her large
cameo pin, and this, with a long watch-chain, gave an air of proper
mural decoration. She was a straight, flat little person, as if, when
not in use, she kept herself, silk dress and all, between the leaves
of a book. She carried a noticeable parasol with a fringe, and a small
shawl, with a pretty border, neatly folded over her left arm.
Mrs. Flagg always dressed in black cashmere, and looked, to hasty
observers, much the same one day as another; but her companion
recognized the fact that this was the best black cashmere of all, and
for a moment quailed at the thought that Mrs. Flagg was paying such
extreme deference to their prospective hostess. The visit turned for a
moment into an unexpectedly solemn formality, and pleasure seemed to
wane before Cynthia Pickett's eyes, yet with great courage she never
slackened a single step. Mrs. Flagg carried a somewhat worn black
leather hand-bag, which Miss Pickett regretted; it did not give the
visit that casual and unpremeditated air which she felt to be more
elegant.
"Sha'n't I carry your bag for you?" she asked timidly. Mrs. Flagg was
the older and more important person.
"Oh, dear me, no," answered Mrs. Flagg. "My pocket's so remote, in
case I should desire to sneeze or anything, that I thought 't would be
convenient for carrying my handkerchief and pocket-book; an' then I
just tucked in a couple o' glasses o' my crab-apple jelly for Mis'
Timms. She used to be a great hand for preserves of every sort, an' I
thought 't would be a kind of an attention, an' give rise to
conversation. I know she used to make excellent drop-cakes when we was
both residin' to Longport; folks used to say she never would give the
right receipt, but if I get a real good chance, I mean to ask her. Or
why can't you, if I start talkin' about receipts--why can't you say,
sort of innocent, that I have always spoken frequently of her
drop-cakes, an' ask for the rule? She would be very sensible to the
compliment, and could pass it off if she didn't feel to indulge us.
There, I do so wish you would!"
"Yes, 'm," said Miss Pickett doubtfully; "I'll try to make the
opportunity. I'm very partial to drop-cakes. Was they flour or rye,
Mis' Flagg?"
"They was flour, dear," replied Mrs. Flagg approvingly; "crisp an'
light as any you ever see."
"I wish I had thought to carry somethin' to make it pleasant," said
Miss Pickett, after they had walked a little farther; "but there, I
don't know's 't would look just right, this first visit, to offer
anything to such a person as Mis' Timms. In case I ever go over to
Baxter again I won't forget to make her some little present, as nice
as I've got. 'T was certain very polite of her to urge me to come with
you. I did feel very doubtful at first. I didn't know but she thought
it behooved her, because I was in your company at the conference, and
she wanted to save my feelin's, and yet expected I would decline. I
never was well acquainted with her; our folks wasn't well off when I
first knew her; 't was before uncle Cap'n Dyer passed away an'
remembered mother an' me in his will. We couldn't make no han'some
companies in them days, so we didn't go to none, an' kep' to
ourselves; but in my grandmother's time, mother always said, the
families was very friendly. I shouldn't feel like goin' over to pass
the day with Mis' Timms if I didn't mean to ask her to return the
visit. Some don't think o' these things, but mother was very set about
not bein' done for when she couldn't make no return."
"'When it rains porridge hold up your dish,'" said Mrs. Flagg; but
Miss Pickett made no response beyond a feeble "Yes, 'm," which somehow
got caught in her pale-green bonnet-strings.
"There, 't ain't no use to fuss too much over all them things,"
proclaimed Mrs. Flagg, walking along at a good pace with a fine sway
of her skirts, and carrying her head high. "Folks walks right by an'
forgits all about you; folks can't always be going through with just
so much. You'd had a good deal better time, you an' your ma, if you'd
been freer in your ways; now don't you s'pose you would? 'T ain't what
you give folks to eat so much as 't is makin' 'em feel welcome. Now,
there's Mis' Timms; when we was to Longport she was dreadful
methodical. She wouldn't let Cap'n Timms fetch nobody home to dinner
without lettin' of her know, same's other cap'ns' wives had to submit
to. I was thinkin', when she was so cordial over to Danby, how she'd
softened with time. Years do learn folks somethin'! She did seem very
pleasant an' desirous. There, I am so glad we got started; if she'd
gone an' got up a real good dinner to-day, an' then not had us come
till to-morrow, 't would have been real too bad. Where anybody lives
alone such a thing is very tryin'."
"Oh, so 't is!" said Miss Pickett. "There, I'd like to tell you what I
went through with year before last. They come an' asked me one
Saturday night to entertain the minister, that time we was having
candidates"--
"I guess we'd better step along faster," said Mrs. Flagg suddenly.
"Why, Miss Pickett, there's the stage comin' now! It's dreadful
prompt, seems to me. Quick! there's folks awaitin', an' I sha'n't get
to Baxter in no state to visit Mis' Cap'n Timms if I have to ride all
the way there backward!"