“Well, of all the—­oh, you’re a great manager, you are!  You call up a woman to get rid of giving one Christmas present, and now you’ve got to give two.  Here! where you going?”

“I’m going to that phone and tell Mrs. Detwiller what I think of her.”

“You keep away from that phone.  Before you could ring off again her husband would have a Christmas present wished onto me!”

VIII

FOILED AGAIN

The next morning Mrs. Budlong arose from dreams of finding bargains after all.  She felt a spirit in her feet that led her, who knows how, to the Christmas-window street.  But the crowds and the prices and the servility of the salesfolk drove her out again.

On her laggard way home she saw Sally Swezey, lean and lanky and somehow reminding her of a flamingo.  Sally espied her from afar and stepped a little higher.  Mrs. Budlong remembered her husband’s suggestion.  She made a quick resolution to do or die.  Her cheek was cold and white and her heart beat loud and fast, but she tried to set her double chin into a square jaw, and she passed Sally Swezey as if Sally Swezey were a lamp-post by the curb—­a common lamp-post by the curb, and nothing more.

She heard Sally’s gush of greeting stop short as if someone had turned a faucet in her throat; she heard a gulp; then she heard a strangled silence.  Then she heard Sally call her name tentatively, tenderly, reproachfully.  Then she heard no more.  And she knew no more till her feet somehow carried her home.  But she had hardly time to flop into a rocker and utter a prayer of gratitude and pride for having been vouchsafed the courage to snub a Carthaginian before Br-r-rr!—­the relentless telephone was on her trail.  She knew just who it was and she braced herself to meet one of Sally’s sharp-tongued assaults.  But Sally said—­in part: 

“Oh, you poor darling dear, is that you? and how are you now?  I was So alarmed for you.  You looked So ill and worn and—­aren’t the Christmas crowds awful this year? and nothing fit to buy and such prices! and—­you must be just worn out.  You really must spare yourself, for do you Know what you Did, dearest.  You went right By me without Seeing me, or Answering me!  Yes, you did!  I was so startled that I didn’t have brains enough to run after you and assist you home.  I’m so glad you got there alive and I Do hope you’re feeling better and I’m so aShamed of myself for letting you go all that way aLone in that pitiful conDition.  Can you ever forGive me?”

When Mr. Budlong came home for luncheon, Mrs. Budlong told him the whole story.  He glared at her with an I-give-you-up expression and growled: 

“And when she said all that, what did you say?”

“I don’t know.”  Mrs. Budlong faltered.  “All I know is that she’s coming over this afternoon with a lot of that wine jelly I gave her the receipt for.”