A GROCERY ORDER
Miss Bibby had been awake nearly all the night, her blood at fever
heat.
Hugh Kinross a stone's-throw away! Hugh Kinross, the author of _Liars
All_, and _In the Teeth of the World_, and other books, that had
thrilled her and set her nerves tingling as if a whip had been applied
to her back!
No book had ever so agitated her as _Liars All_. And she had paid it the
highest compliment in her power--she had flung aside her political
novel, and the historical one that she had been touching up, and the
detective tale that she had been copying afresh, and she had started
feverishly upon a short story that she had entitled _Hypocrites_. And
_she_ had tried desperately to "lay about her with a bludgeon," and say
biting, savage things of hypocritical human nature, and hold a
relentless mirror up to its little faults. Kinross would have been
convulsed could he have seen it.
Miss Bibby lay in her quiet bed and illustrated Kinross for herself,
since she had never been able to find a portrait of him in any magazine.
He was very tall, austere-looking, very thin; the only smile that ever
crossed his face was a cynical, a sardonic one. His hair and his eyes
were black. He was clean-shaven and his lip and chin were blue.
And she would meet him--she could hardly help meeting him. Possibly she
would never get so far as knowing him to speak to, but she would see his
tall, spare figure moving slowly about the verandah as he wove his
plots, and perhaps the shadow of his head on the blind of a lighted
window far into the night.
The fever in her blood drove her from bed. She got up and bathed, and
dressed herself with the punctilious care she always bestowed upon her
toilet.
Over the choice of her morning dress she hesitated a moment. She wore
dainty washing blouses, and neatly-cut serge skirts as a rule; but this
morning something induced her to don a limp lavender muslin that took
all the freshness from her cheeks.
Then she went out to the faithful performance of her duties, which no
amount of fever in her blood could make her neglect. The hot-water
ordeal was gone through, the children were turned out speckless from
their bedrooms, the bedclothes were put to air, and not even her own
"deep-breathing exercises" were omitted.
But then she missed Max and Lynn. And after a world of trouble dragged
it from Pauline that they had actually gone across to "Tenby" to try to
induce Hugh Kinross to give his orders for bacon and such things to
Larkin.
Hugh Kinross and bacon! Miss Bibby ran down to the gate almost choking
with agitation and distress.
There was a figure crossing the road, with Lynn held by the hand, and
the red tricycle, and Max flanking it on the other side. It was a figure
of merely medium height, more than a trifle inclined to stoutness, with
an ordinary kindly face and shrewd eyes. He wore a white linen suit,
creased all over with bad packing, and a soft shirt with a low collar.
When he took off his old Panama hat, Miss Bibby saw, quite with a shock,
the bald patch at the back of his head.
"Good-morning," he said pleasantly; "my little friend here tells me you
are Miss Bibby. May I introduce myself? My name is Kinross. I have met
the Judge on several occasions and I think he will vouch for my
respectability. May I take these small ones up the road with me? We are
going in hot pursuit of two of the world's best things--eggs and bacon.
I will return them safely--thank you very much. Good-bye."
That was all. Not another word, though Miss Bibby, going over and over
again in her mind the great meeting, tried hard to imagine that she had
forgotten some notable thing he had said. Then she began to torture
herself with fears that she had behaved stupidly. The suddenness had
been too much for her; she could not recollect one solitary thing that
she had said except a fluttering "Certainly," when he asked permission
to take the children with him. What must he have thought of her?
Ah, if it could only happen over again when she should have had time to
collect her faculties and make some brilliant and scathing repartee as
the women in his books so frequently did. But then again, what chance
had his speech offered for repartee? What kindling of conversation could
there be when the only tinder provided was--eggs and bacon?
She worried herself to such a degree that when breakfast-time came, her
appetite, usually small, had almost reached vanishing-point.
The cause of her flutterings was striding along the red dusty road, Lynn
and Max having all they could do to keep up with him.
He, too, had had his moment of disappointment. Lynn had told him there
was no other lady in their house but Miss Bibby; and then the figure
that had given him some pleasurable emotions an hour ago--the slender
white figure that had walked on the path between the flowers--turned out
on close view to be merely a thin woman of almost forty, in a floppy
puce-coloured muslin gown.
And Lynn was unwittingly merciless to the temporary occupant of her
mother's place. When Kinross had asked her if it was Miss Bibby who was
up so early and walking among the trees, she volunteered, in addition to
the affirmative--which would have been quite enough--that she walked
about like that when she was doing some of her deep-breathing exercises.
And that after her deep-breathing exercises she always skipped backwards
for five minutes, and after the skipping she lay down flat on the floor
and kept lifting up her head in such a funny way.
And of course this led to an account of Miss Bibby's eccentricities of
diet, of which Kinross soon knew all that seemed worth knowing. At first
he had hardly listened as the irrepressibles chattered away, or he might
have bidden them respect the lady's idiosyncrasies. But a sudden image
confronted him of the figure in limp muslin, solemnly skipping for the
good of her health, and he gave a great roar of laughter and vowed to
himself he would use her for "copy" some day.
But now they were at the shops and Lynn and Max were greatly excited.
They pointed out the different places to him.
This was Benson's, and he made the most _delicious_ drop cakes that ever
were; they always bought some when they were going for picnics, and
gen'ally on a Saturday, when Anna had no time to make cakes, they had
them again. Hugh was solemnly warned not to be beguiled into dealing
with Dunks. Dunks did give, it was true, nine for sixpence; but then
Pauline had measured them once with Miss Bibby's tape measure--measured
them "longways, and broadways, and fatways," and Benson's had been fully
half an inch superior.
These were the two photographers. It was advisable to deal with this
one, for he always gave you the whole tray down to choose from when you
went to buy picture post-cards, and the other man didn't, 'cause he was
afraid your hands were dirty. But they never were when you went for a
walk, only Max's sometimes, because he still fell down a lot (this point
Max contested hotly).
These were the two shoe-makers: if you broke the strap of your sandals
this one could fix it best; but if you wore out your climbing shoes,
and wanted a new pair made, it was advisable to patronize this one.
And _these_ were the grocers. Poor old Septimus Smith would have stirred
uncomfortably in the dreams that still held him, could he have heard
Lynn and Max vigorously advising Burunda's latest stranger never on any
pretence whatever to buy as much as half a pound of butter at his
establishment.
And Octavius, sleepily sweeping his shop and doing the manifold duties
of little Larkin, who was fast nearing the poor selection for his
dearly-earned holiday,--Octavius would himself have been amazed at the
number of good points his business had. His currants--how _much_ cleaner
than the currants of Septimus,--his bacon--words seemed inadequate to
describe his bacon. He gave you a whole penny box of chocolates each
when you went with Anna to pay his bill. He saved you the tinfoil from
his tea-boxes and the lovely paper ribbon off the boxes of raisins.
Hugh heard again about Blanche and Emma and the piano, and the rapt
vision of the buying up of both the Smiths, and the future conduct of
one grocery business only by a person of the name of Larkin.
"Not another word," he said; "you have more than convinced me that no
one who has any regard for his immortal soul would deal anywhere but at
Octavius Smith's. Let us go on and swell Larkin's commission at once.
You are probably better up in housekeeping than I am, Lynn,--if I forget
any item you must jog my memory. My sister will be quite delighted that
we have saved her all this trouble."
Octavius was speedily wide-awake.
He had always liked the Judge's children, and took a special interest in
Lynn, who had composed the following song for him:--
"You must deal at the shop of Octave
Ius Smith if you're anxious to save.
But into the small shop of Sept
We hope that you never have stept."
But this was beyond everything good and thoughtful of the child. And as
to Larkin, who had obtained her interest so well--well, the lad should
have a "thumping" commission on the order.
The old man's hand began positively to shake as he wrote and wrote at
the order.
It was Lynn who suggested everything, with Max occasionally coming in
with a brilliant thought like "hundreds and lousands of laspberry jam."
As for instance--soap. "Yes, you will need soap," Lynn said; "how much?
Oh, I think you always order grocery things in half-dozens."
"Half-dozens be it," said Hugh.
"Six bars of soap," wrote Octavius, who was a little deaf, and had not
heard the quantity difficulty. "Six pounds of sago, six tins of
curry-powder, y-y-yes, six jars of honey, certainly, six tins of tongue,
six tins of asparagus, six pounds of pepper, six clothes pegs. Bacon?
Any favourite brand?"
"Well, all I'm particular about," said Hugh, with a twinkle in his eye,
"is that it shall be prime middle cut and elevenpence a pound."
"Just the very thing I make a speciality of!" cried the old man
marvelling.
Finally the order was complete; it took two pages of the order book.
Octavius would have to borrow Burunda's one cart to deliver so
tremendous an order; the usual thing was for Larkin to carry goods in a
basket on horseback.
He would have to go over to his brother Septimus and borrow some
things,--asparagus, for instance; he never kept more than two tins at a
time of so expensive an article. And pepper--his whole stock of pepper
at present was but three pounds!
He bowed his customers out, rubbing his hands together, praising the
day, the view--everything. Some enormously wealthy friend of the Judge,
without a doubt. Possibly the Premier from some other State--yes, most
likely a Premier--who else could want six tins of tongue? Doubtless he
was going to entertain the Ministers at a picnic at the waterfall.
"The Premier" came back after he had gone a step or two.
"Look here," he said, "just wrap me up some of that bacon and a few
eggs, and I'll take them with me now. We've nothing for breakfast at our
house."
Half-way down the hill again, Lynn, speechless with the thought of
telling Pauline and Muffie about her brilliant success, Max, a little
depressed--he could never walk before breakfast without feeling very
large and hollow inside--Hugh, blandly holding to him the parcel of eggs
and bacon, met an unexpected sight--Kate toiling along up the steep
grade on her bicycle.
"He-he-he!" giggled Lynn; "look at that funny fat woman on a bicycle."
"It's only a lack bicycle," said Max critically, "mine's led."
The funny fat woman got off in a most agile fashion when they came
alongside.
"My _dear_ Hugh!" she said, "and I imagined you still sound asleep. What
on earth are you after now?"
"Eggs and bacon," said Hugh promptly, "and you can just come home and
fry them for me. Exercise must wait for a more suitable time."
"Exercise!" panted the lady indignantly, "why, I was just killing
myself to get up to a store, and buy some butter for your breakfast, I
had quite forgotten to bring any."
"We have ordered it," said Hugh--"six pounds of it. My little lady
friend here informs me that it is the correct thing to order groceries
in half-dozens. I like doing the correct thing, though a doubt did cross
my mind as to the advisability of laying in six pounds of pepper."
"Six pounds of pepper! Oh, Hugh, you are joking."
She looked helplessly at Lynn.
But Lynn's sensitive little face was scarlet; she had called this
bicycle lady "a funny fat woman," and here she was a friend of this very
nice man's.
She did not know whether to gasp out an apology or remain silent. The
latter course commended itself, however, to her, as it ever does to
children.
"You don't mean to say you have given a grocery order without consulting
me, Hugh?" insisted the lady.
"Just a little one to see us over to-day," said Hugh. "Half a dozen
ox-tongues, half a dozen bars of soap--I forget the rest. I thought they
would come in useful."
"Why, man," cried Kate, "the kitchen is full of packing-cases of
groceries that I brought from town. You don't imagine I was going to
let you run the risk of inferior things from a country store!"
"It is prime middle cut, I assure you," said Hugh seriously.
"I am going up to cancel your ridiculous order," said Kate determinedly,
preparing to mount. "I shall explain to the storekeeper that you are not
responsible for your actions."
"You are going home to fry my bacon," said Hugh, as he whirled her
bicycle round; "if you don't I swear I'll sit down here and eat it
raw."