Chapter XII SHOPPING AS A DISSIPATION I thought I could move into my house on the first of June--but I didn't. A rainy day followed the holiday, and in the rain we first set out the roses, which had arrived by freight and which Bert brought over from the village on an early trip, and then tackled the rest of the interior of the house. I wouldn't let Miss Goodwin wash any windows, as that appeared to me to be Mrs. Pillig's job, but we hung my few remaining pictures in the dining-room and hall, set up my old mahogany drop-leaf table for a dining-table--it was large enough for four people, on a pinch--and placed the only two straight-backed chairs I possessed on either side of it. "Dear, dear!" said I. "I was going to have Mr. and Mrs. Bert and you as my guests at my first meal, but it looks as if you'd have to come alone." "You could bring in a chair and the piano bench from the south room," she smiled. "A more important item seems to be dishes." "Heavens!" I cried, "I never thought of that! But I've got silver, anyway. I've kept all my mother's silver. It's in a tin box in the bottom drawer of my desk." "Well, that's something," she admitted. "Have you got tablecloths and napkins and kitchen utensils--to cook with, you know? And have you got some bedding for Mrs. Pillig and son Peter?" I ruefully shook my head. "I've got a sleeping-bag, though, which Peter could put on the floor. What am I going to do?" "I think you're going to make a trip to-morrow to the nearest large town, and stock up," she smiled. "Am I going alone?" She laughed at me. "No, you helpless child, mamma will go with you." So the next morning we set off early, provided with a list of necessary articles compiled with Mrs. Bert's assistance. We tramped over to Bentford and took the train there for a city some seventeen miles away, which we reached about half-past eight. It was a clean, neat little city, with fine old trees on the residence streets, and prosperous, well-stocked shops. The girl was dressed jauntily in blue, and I wore my last year's best suit and a hat and collar. I sniffed the city smell, and declared, "Rather nice, just for a contrast. I've got an all-dressed-up-in-my-best feeling. Have you?" "It is a lark," she smiled. "I never saw a city from the country point of view before. It seems queer to me--as if I didn't belong in it." "You don't," said I; "you belong in the country." She said nothing, but led me into a shop. It was a household-goods shop, and here we looked at dishes first. The woman who waited on us assumed a motherly air. It began to dawn upon me that she thought we were stocking our little prospective home. I shot a covert glance at the girl. Her eyes were twinkling, her colour high. I said nothing, but pointed to the dinner set I desired. She laughed. "That's Royal Worcester," she said. "What of it? I like it." "Well, then, look at it all you can now," she answered, "for you can't have it."