in and shone upon their soft, rich colours; she had never before
seen Chinese embroideries and, thus, encountered a brand-new love.
Then Aunt Isabel was the kind of woman who keeps big bowls of fresh
flowers sitting around in all the rooms, even if there's no party--a
delightful habit. Missy was going to adore watching Aunt Isabel's
pretty, restless hands flutter about as, each morning, she arranged
the fresh flowers in their bowls.

Even in Missy's room there was a little bowl of jade-green pottery,
a colour which harmonized admirably with sweet peas, late roses,
nasturtiums, or what-not. And all the furniture in that room was
painted white, while the chintz bloomed with delicate little
nosegays.

The one inharmonious element was that of Uncle Charlie's
indisposition--not only the fact that he was suffering, but also the
nature of his ailment. For Uncle Charlie, it developed, had been
helping move a barrel of mixed-pickles in the grocery department of
his store, and the barrel had fallen full-weight upon his foot and
broken his big toe. Missy realized that, of course, a tournament
with a sword-thrust in the heart, or some catastrophe like that,
would have meant a more dangerous injury; but--a barrel of pickles!
And his big toe! Any toe was unromantic. But the BIG toe! That was
somehow the worst of all.

Uncle Charlie, however, spoke quite openly of the cause of his
trouble. Also of its locale. Indeed, he could hardly have concealed
the latter, as his whole foot was bandaged up, and he had to hobble
about, very awkwardly, with the aid of a cane.