“After all, it will be great fun getting the furniture.”
“Yes, we’ll all go up to London and help to choose,” concluded Bill. “What fun!”
So there was another jolly side of it, and Mrs. Atterton felt almost consoled for the loss of the Stamfords’ heirlooms by the thought of buying furniture for Elizabeth’s new home.
“But what is to become of Flitterkins?” said Bill. “The lady with the roving eye – you won’t want her?”
“We might find Mrs. Jebb a post,” said Mr. Atterton.
“She doesn’t want a post; she wants a home,” said Elizabeth.
“I should hate to behave badly to her,” said Andy.
Then Norah gave her opinion —
“A little fancy shop at Bardswell, where she can be as refined as she likes, and talk about Mr. Jebb to everybody until she sees him in wings with a halo round his head, and really believes she never could have married anybody else.”
“We could all buy embroidery silks every time we went into Bardswell, whether we wanted them or not,” agreed Mrs. Atterton.
“We’ll stock the shop when we go to buy the furniture,” said Elizabeth eagerly.
“And call it ‘The Ladies’ Needlework Club,’ ” added Norah, with her little smile.
“I say, Elizabeth,” remarked Bill, “I shall take back that hunting-crop and give you a new wedding present. What would you like?”
Elizabeth looked first at him and then at her lover.
“A mahogany sideboard with a plate-glass back exactly like Mrs. Simpson’s.”
“What?” cried Bill. “Go on, you silly! I mean, really.”
“So do I,” said Elizabeth.
After that they went away from the table, and there was a buzz of talking and laughter, until Elizabeth and Andy found themselves alone at last in the twilight.
“You didn’t think it silly about the sideboard?” said Elizabeth.
“No,” said Andy.
But the last unspoken conversation here recorded was quite different.
THE END