thought it would be better to buy it straight from you; that—perhaps—it—perhaps it would save time and trouble."
"I don't see how it could do that. This part of town is a long distance out of everybody's way."
"Yes, of course it is," the other agreed eagerly; then, with a sudden happy inspiration, "but I thought you might have a larger variety here—that you might have a good many different kinds on hand. I don't want all the same sort."
Viola rose and went to the door that led to the dining-room. Her resentment was not more obvious than her embarrassment. There was something tremulous in the expression of her face that gave Letitia a wretched feeling that only pride enabled her to keep back her tears.
"I have just the same here that I have at the Exchange," she said, opening the doors.
The visitor followed her. In the gray of the afternoon the long room, with its tiers of plants and its bare sideboard and mantelpiece, looked even colder and drearier than the drawing-room. Viola opened a cupboard and indicated the lines of glass jars standing on the shelves. She tried to be businesslike, and told their contents and prices, but her voice betrayed her. Letitia, listening to her and staring at the Chinese cracker-jar that was the sole adornment
