SHOPPING WITH GRANDMOTHER MINTON[7]

SHOPPING WITH GRANDMOTHER MINTON[7]

Daisy Crabbe Curtis

“There!” said Grandmother Minton, standing stock-still in the middle of the sidewalk, all unmindful of the fact that she was blocking the way of the hurrying Christmas shoppers. “That child has hurt himself! I can tell by the way he cries. Pick him up, Susan!”

“O grandmother!” protested Susan. “He’s dirty!”

“Bumps hurt a dirty boy just as much as a clean one,” said Grandmother Minton.

Susan sighed, and with the air of a martyr lifted the weeping urchin to his feet.

“It’s his forehead, poor child!” said Grandmother Minton, gently touching a red bump on the boy’s forehead. “Don’t cry, sonny; grandma’s got somethin’ in her little black bag that will stop the hurt. Here ’tis—arnica, and a nice clean handkerchief to bind it up with,” she went on soothingly as she worked. “Feels better already, eh? And here’s somethin’ more to help,” she added, popping a piece of white candy into his mouth. “That’s good for the cry. All right, now?”

“Grandmother, come!” whispered Susan with scarlet cheeks.

She was painfully embarrassed by the curious crowd that had collected about them.

“Wait till I see if he walks all right,” said the old lady, whose face was filled with motherly anxiety.

“Of course he walks all right! Do come!”

The bystanders made way respectfully for the little old lady and her stylishly dressed granddaughter. Susan carefully avoided their glances, but Grandmother Minton beamed impartially upon them all from behind her massive-rimmed spectacles.

Would grandmother ever learn not to make herself so conspicuous, Susan wondered. Mother might have known that something like this would happen. She ought not to have insisted upon Susan’s going with grandmother to the city, and on a shopping expedition, too! “Why,” thought Susan, glancing at her companion, “even if grandmother wasn’t always doing things that make people stop and look at her, they would look at her just the same because of her queer, old-fashioned clothes! Why will she insist upon making them herself, and all after the same old pattern, when father’s ready and willing to buy her the best the stores afford? Why can’t she be like Lillian Teller’s grandmother, always dressed in fashion and with her hair stylishly arranged? And why will grandmother persist in carrying that absurd old black velvet bag everywhere she goes? Hasn’t each of us, at some time or other, given her a new bag?”

“Why don’t you take one of your new bags?” Susan had asked grandmother that very morning when they started for the train.

“It seems like they’re too gorgeous,” grandmother had said, “to hold my peppermint drops and snacks of medicine and pennies for the children, not to mention my packet of court-plaster and spectacle case and bit of thread and needle. The bags you dear people gave me just go with ’broidered handkerchiefs and smellin’ salts and ten-dollar bills,” she added, with a twinkle in her eye.

“But your black bag is so—shabby.”

“Tut, child, it’s an old friend grown shabby in helpin’ me and others. Your grandfather gave it to me before he died and I came to live at your house. That bag’s seen good times and bad times. It’s taken medicine to the poor and the sick. It’s carried my clean handkerchief and collection money to church. It’s been to weddin’s and funerals, and even carried a set of infant’s clothes for a newborn babe of the Raffertys’ that hadn’t a stitch to its back. Why,” said Grandmother Minton, tenderly smoothing its rusty drawing-strings, “you don’t know how lonesome and homesick I’d feel without this bag!”

“Here we are at Trasher & Brown’s,” said Susan as they approached a great store. “Now, what’s first on your list?” she asked briskly. “I’ll just hurry her along,” she thought, “and maybe we can catch the one-thirty train home.”

“Let’s see!” said Grandmother Minton, pulling a worn piece of paper from her bag. “You’ll have to read it for me, Susan. I left my readin’ specs at home.”

“Peppermint sticks,” read Susan. “Candy’s in the basement. Let’s take the elevator.”

“Department stores are funny,” said Grandmother Minton, with a chuckle. “Candy, calicoes and furniture all mixed up together.” They had reached the candy counter, and she addressed the clerk in a confidential tone. “Yes, I want peppermint sticks, red and white ones. They’re the tastiest for Christmas. What? Oh, two dozen, I should say! Let me see, they’re for the Raffertys and Bensons and Manders and— Best make it three dozen. What’s that, Susan? A shopping card? You tell her how to make it out. I’m too old-fashioned for shopping cards, I guess. What next, Susan? Oh, yes, dolls! Nellie Rafferty wants a yellow-haired one. Can you tell me where the yellow-haired dolls are?” she asked the clerk. “Nellie Rafferty’s set her heart—”

“I know where the dolls are, grandmother,” said Susan hastily.

She did wish that grandmother would not always take the clerks into her confidence!

Grandmother Minton fairly reveled in the doll department. She went from one show case to another, exclaiming over the pretty curls and attractive dresses. Each doll brought for her inspection seemed more beautiful than the last, and she could not decide which one would best please ragged little Nellie Rafferty. Susan was in despair! It was after twelve o’clock and she had seen other items on grandmother’s list; a fire engine, a red cart, some brown yarn, a girl’s coat, infant’s underwear, shoes and stockings. She fairly gasped. Why, they would be lucky if they reached home on the three-eighteen!

“Grandmother,” she suggested, “how would it be if I bought some of the other things for you while you’re selecting the doll? Shall I,” consulting the list, “buy the girl’s coat and the infant’s underwear?”

“Why, you might, I suppose, though I’d counted on pickin’ them out myself.”

“It will save time if I do it.”

“Well,” agreed Grandmother Minton reluctantly, “I’ll try and tell you exactly what I want. The coat’s to be eight-year size, and mind, it must be durable. Like’s not, it will be handed down from one child to another in the Benson family, and they’re such husky young ones it’ll have to be good and stout to stand the strain. The infant’s underwear is to be one-year size and wool, Susan! Don’t let them give you anything but wool.”

“Yes, yes,” said Susan, impatient to be off. “Stay right here, grandmother, until I come for you.”

It took Susan much longer than she had expected to purchase the coat and underwear. She had to go to the third floor for the coat, and she found a sales clerk busy trying to please a most exacting customer, who seemed to want to examine every coat in stock before making a selection. When Susan’s turn came, she hurriedly purchased a dark blue chinchilla and then went in search of the underwear.

The afternoon shoppers were beginning to throng the floors when Susan finally made her way back to the toy department. That, thought Susan, must account for the fact that, although she had nearly reached the spot where the dolls were sold, she had not yet caught a glimpse of a little white-haired lady in an old-fashioned black dress and with a shabby black velvet bag in her hand.

“This is the very counter where I left her,” said Susan, with a puzzled frown. “She must be looking at some of the show cases near by, or perhaps she has walked a little way to look for me.”

She was beginning to feel anxious, for she knew that Grandmother Minton would not be likely to wander about the big store for herself.

Susan began to thread her way among the shoppers, scanning each one sharply. At first she was deliberate and polite, but after she had circled several times round the toy department and still had caught no glimpse of Grandmother Minton’s kind old face she became desperate and pushed her way rudely hither and thither. What had become of her grandmother? Was she wandering helplessly round with no one to pilot her? Would anyone notice that she was lost and try to help her?

Susan stopped short in her wanderings. A possibility that filled her with dread had flashed into her mind. Such things had happened to other people, she knew. Could it be that grandmother had been taken suddenly ill and been rushed to the hospital? What would father say? Was not Grandmother Minton his own mother? Had he not cautioned Susan that morning to take the best of care of her and bring her safe home to him again? Now, she would have to telephone and tell him—oh, she could not! And what would mother say? And all the Raffertys and Bensons and Manders? They worshipped Grandmother Minton!

Some one grasped Susan’s arm, and the polite voice of the floorwalker questioned her.

“What is it, miss? Have you lost your purse?”

Susan realized then that she had been wringing her hands and that tears were in her eyes.

“No!” she gasped. “I—I wish I had.”

“Beg pardon?”

“I’ve lost my grandmother,” explained Susan. “Have you seen her?”

The puzzled look upon the floorwalker’s face caused Susan to be more coherent. She told him what had happened, and he suggested that she go to the waiting-room and rest while he went to the office and made various inquiries. He was sure that they would be able to find her grandmother. And, Susan, because she was bewildered and felt faint and weary and knew nothing better to do, acted upon his suggestion.

The waiting-room was filled with the usual number of weary shoppers, some of whom were trying to soothe fretful children. Susan sat down in one of the vacant chairs. It had been more than an hour since she had missed her grandmother. Could it be only yesterday that she had gone to her to have her gloves mended at the very last minute, so that she might wear them to the concert? It seemed ages and ages ago. Grandmother had never been out of patience with Susan, not even during that week when she was taking her high-school examinations and was so snappy and cross to everyone.

“Oh,” thought Susan remorsefully. “I’m just hateful to grandmother! It was wonderful of her to help that child this morning. I’m such a proud, stuck-up thing I’d have let him die, I suppose, rather than lift my hand to help him. Grandmother would help anyone who’s in need. She’d give her last cent to—”

“There,” said a cheery voice, “you look better! Wasn’t it lucky I was near by when you felt faint?”

Susan turned sharply and her eyes opened wide. There, bending solicitously over a woman who lay on the divan, was grandmother! She had in her hand one of the little bottles from her black bag and was bathing and rubbing the sick woman’s forehead. Susan held her breath and drew near. How infinitely dear grandmother was! She had taken off her coat and looked so quaint and grandmotherly in her fitted basque and softly shirred skirt. How suitably the close little bonnet framed the white hair, plump face and kind blue eyes!

Susan’s gaze wandered to the woman to whom her grandmother was ministering. She was so stylishly gowned that Susan was astonished when she saw her face. It was much wrinkled and, in spite of the faint touch of rouge on the cheeks, looked ghastly. “She’s old,” thought Susan, “in spite of her stylish, young-looking clothes. Why, she must be older than grandmother! Maybe she’s a grandmother, too, but she doesn’t look like a comfortable one. She’d never go into the kitchen and make doughnuts for me and mince pie for Brother Jack. She’d never help a dirty child that had hurt himself!”

“Grandmother!” called Susan softly.

“Well, Sue, child,” said Grandmother Minton, with a welcoming smile, “so you’ve come for me! I aimed to get back to the doll counter before you came, but this lady was taken faint right near where I was, and of course, I came here with her. Lan’s sake child, you look pale yourself! Sit right down in this chair. I’ll have to rub your forehead, too.”

“I’m all right now that I’ve found you. Oh, grandmother, I thought you were lost!”

“Well, well, I was comin’ right back, Sue. Here’s my handkerchief. There! I guess,” said Grandmother Minton, with a smile, as she fumbled in her black bag, “if you are going to cry, I’ll have to give you a candy drop like I gave that little boy this mornin’.”

“Do,” said Susan, laughing through her tears, “and get it from the bottom of your little black bag, grandmother!”