was the reply; and voice and tone
were equally ill-bred. "I can't wait on everybody at once."

"I have been waiting fifteen minutes," was the reply; "and my turn has
come over and over again."

That was enough for Hildegarde. She reached over the woman's shoulder,
and rapped sharply on the counter. "Will you tell the lady the price of
this cashmere, or shall I call Mr. Jones?"

The shop-woman looked up hastily, caught sight of two blazing eyes, and
a face like white lightning, and quailed.

"I--I'm sure I was doing my best!" she muttered. "It's sixty cents a
yard."

"If this is your best, you have no place here!" said the flashing person
before her. "How many yards would you like, madam? You shall--oh! oh,
my dear! Oh, Nurse Lucy, it is not really you?"

"Oh, my blessed lamb!" cried Nurse Lucy, "Am I awake or dreaming, I says
to myself the minute I heard your darling voice!"

And the stately maiden in blue serge, and the gray-haired woman in black
alpaca, fell on each other's neck, and fairly cried for joy, while the
roar of the shopping actually ceased--for one moment. Then it rose
again,--what did it matter to anybody, when a bargain sale was on, who
met or who parted? And the two friends, holding each other fast by the
hand, got into a quiet corner apart, in a haven dedicated to Marseilles
quilts, which nobody was buying, and sat down on two stools, and gazed
their fill.

"I wonder what is the meaning of it all!" cried Hildegarde. "One after
another, I keep meeting all the people I care most about; first one
friend, and then another,--and now you, you dear, blessed Nurse Lucy.
Oh! what _are_ you doing here? and where is Mr. Hartley? and--and--have
you seen Rose and Bubble? I was wondering whether I could find them.
And--oh, do tell me all about everything, _please_!"

She paused, breathless, and Nurse Lucy took up the tale, drying her
joyful tears the while.

"My pretty! to think of it being you! and me thinking of you miles away,
and wishing I could run down and see you and your blessed mother, as
you've asked me a many times so kind. And Jacob,--why, he's right
outside, dear, waiting for me. He can't abear a crowd of people, you
know, and New York almost smothers him anyway, poor soul. We came up for
the day, dear, to see Pinkrosia, and Bubble, and the Doctor. We had a
note from Doctor Flower--ah! what a good man he is!--and he wouldn't
take no for an answer, but we must come up and see them in their ow