She allowed herself to be motored over to the next
town, where there was fairly good shopping, and went obediently into
the stores. It was not until she saw the lady ordering down for
inspection bolts of crepe de Chine and wash satin and glove silk in
whites and pinks and flesh-colors, that the full inwardness of the
thing dawned on her. For evidently Mrs. Hewitt had every intention
of paying for all this opulence, and Joy didn't quite see what to do
about it. Nor did the pocket-money her grandfather had given her
when she left him warrant her paying for the things herself, even if
she used it all.
"Please don't get these things," she whispered when she found a
chance. "I--I think I oughtn't to."
"Oughtn't to, indeed," replied Mrs. Hewitt coolly. "'Nobody asked
you, sir, she said!' I'm getting them myself. I may be intending to
make up a set of wash-satin blankets for the Harrington bulldog for
all you know. I don't think he'd be surprised--they treat him like a
long-lost relative now. Now be sensible, darling. Do you think
valenciennes or filet would be better to trim the blankets? Or do
you like these lace and organdy motifs? They'd look charming on a
black bulldog."
Joy laughed in spite of herself.
"There's no doing anything with you," she said.
"Not a thing!" said the triumphant spoiled child whom the world took
for an elderly lady. "Now we'll get down to business. Would you
rather have crepe or satin for camisoles? Half of each would be a
good plan, I think, if you have no choice.
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