In her exultation and relief of mind, Miss Becky marched on, regardless of jostling crowds and thronging teams. Her whole attitude had changed. She was no longer the timid, shrinking old woman; she was the responsible guardian, aware of the importance of her charge, and nothing was ever to convince her that she had not as good as saved Nannie's life on that occasion.
Then Nannie, as became a hostess, accepted the situation with the best grace in the world.
"I tell you what let's do, Miss Becky," she said. "Let's go and get some ice-cream. That is, if you like it."
"Oh, yes; I like ice-cream, especially vanilla. But--do you think we've got time enough?"
"We've got an hour and a quarter before the train goes. Let's come in here and get it."
From the crowded street they passed in at the doorway and walked between marble counters to what seemed to Miss Becky a scene in fairyland. Ascending two or three broad steps, on each side of which an antlered stag kept guard, they stepped upon a great carpeted space, lighted from above,--a space in the middle of which was a fountain, springing high into the air, and splashing back into a round basin lined with shining shells and pebbles, over and among which goldfish swam and dove like animated jewels. Ferns and palms grew all about the basin, and in among the greenery was a little table where Nannie and her guest sat hidden safe away from the world.
"Well, this doos beat all!" the old lady exclaimed, gazing at the fountain with an expression of rapt delight--just the expression that Nannie had counted upon seeing among the wrinkles.
"Do you like it?" she asked, all her disappointment and chagrin forgotten.
"Like it? Why, it's the most tasty place I was ever in! It's better than any play; it's like bein' in a play yourself! Jest see them pillows supportin' that gallery! 'N' them picters of tropical fruits! 'N' this ice-cream! Why, it's different from what we hev at the Sunday-school picnics! 'Pears to me it's more creamy!"
Now, at last, Miss Becky had lost all thought of the passage of time. She took her ice-cream, just a little at a time, off the tip-end of her spoon, and with every mouthful the look of content grew deeper. One of the little cakes that were served with the ice-cream was a macaroon with a sugar swan upon it--"a reel little statoo of a swan," Miss Becky called it. She could not be persuaded to eat it, but she studied it with such undisguised admiration that Nannie ventured to suggest that she take it home with her. Again Miss Becky was enchanted. She wrapped it in her pocket-handkerchief, and placed it carefully in her reticule, whence it was to emerge only to enter upon a long and admired career as a parlour ornament.