Mavis, babbling contentedly all through dinner, harped on the niceness
both of people and things. Mrs. Norton, and indeed everybody else, had
been so nice about it. All Rodchurch had seemed anxious to assist Mr.
and Mrs. Dale in contriving their little maid's holiday. "And it is
nice," said Mavis simply, "to be treated like that." Mrs. Norton had
taken her all round the vicarage garden, and she had never seen it
looking nicer. "Although the flowers aren't anything to boast of, any
more than ours are."
"And what _do_ you think? Here's a bit of news you'll be sorry to
hear, though it mayn't surprise you." Then Mavis related how it had
been necessary to procure some sort of trunk to hold Norah's things,
because there wasn't a single presentable bit of luggage in the house,
and she had discovered exactly what she wanted--something that was not
immoderate, appearing solid, yet not heavy--at the new shop that had
recently been opened at the bottom of the village near the Gauntlet
Inn. First, however, she had gone to their old friend the saddler's,
wanting to see if she could buy the box there. But Mr. Allen's shop
was empty, woe-begone, dirty with cobwebs, dead flies, and mud on the
window; and Mr. Allen himself was ill in bed, being nursed hand and
foot, and fed like a baby, by poor Mrs.
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