Hannah leaned close across her to her good ear at the same moment and said loudly, “Catherine, hello; it’s only Rufus and I”; and as they spoke each laid a reassuring hand on her; and upstairs Rufus heard Andrew bite out, “Oh, G-godd”; but his grandmother, used to such frights, quickly recovered, laughed her tinkling ladylike laugh (which was beginning faintly to crack) very sportingly, and cried, “Goodness gracious, how you startled me!” and laughed again. “And there’s little Rufus!” she smiled, leaning deeply towards him with damaged, merry eyes and playfully patting his cheek.
“So you’re ready to go!” she said brightly to Hannah.
Hannah nodded conspicuously and leaning again close across her to get at her good ear, cried, “Yes; all ready!”
“Have a nice time,” Grandma said, “and give Grandma a good hug,” and she hugged him close, saying “Mum-mum; nice little boy,” and vigorously slapping his back.
“Good-bye,” they shouted.
“Good-bye,” she beamed, following them to the door. They took the streetcar and got out at Gay Street. There was no flurry and no dawdling as there would have been with any other woman Rufus knew; none of the ceremony that held his grandmother’s shopping habits in a kind of stiff embroidery; none of the hurrying, sheepish refusal to be judicious in which men shopped. Hannah steered her way through the vigorous sidewalk traffic and along the dense, numerous aisles of the stores with quiet exhilaration. Shopping had never lost its charm for her. She prepared her mind and her disposition for it as carefully as she dressed for it, and Rufus had seldom seen her forced to consult a shopping list, even if she were doing intricate errands for others. Her personal tastes were almost as frugal as her needs; hooks and eyes, lengths of black tape and white tape, snappers so tiny it was difficult to handle them, narrow lace, a few yards,
