New Horizons Read Online Free Page A

years.”
    â€œYes, I remember all the newspapers had stories of his demise and how sad it was—”
    Mrs. Taft quickly interrupted. “Please, let’s not discuss that.” She turned to the bookshelves and began reading the titles stacked there.
    Mandie frowned and squinted her blue eyes as she heard the remark about her grandfather.
    â€œOf course, I apologize, Mrs. Taft,” Mrs. Heyward said. “Now, is there anything you’d like me to get down from the upper shelves for you to look at?”
    â€œNo, thank you, not today,” Mrs. Taft replied.
    Mandie thought it odd that her grandmother was so short with the bookstore owner. Why did her grandmother not want to discuss the death of her husband? What had happened to him?Did he not die a normal death? Mandie couldn’t remember ever having discussed it with her mother or grandmother.
    Celia also heard the shortness Mrs. Taft had for the bookstore owner, and she came to stand beside Mandie, who was pretending to read the titles on the stacked books. Mandie looked at her with a puzzled frown.
    â€œI think we need to be moving on up the street to see the other shops,” Mrs. Taft told Mrs. Hamilton.
    â€œYes, we don’t have a lot of time before the sun goes down and we have to return to the hotel for supper,” Mrs. Hamilton reminded the others.
    Mrs. Taft turned to Mrs. Heyward and said, “Good day, madam. It was a pleasure meeting you.” She motioned for Mandie to go ahead out of the shop, and she turned to follow.
    â€œMy pleasure, Mrs. Taft,” Mrs. Heyward replied.
    Outside, Mrs. Taft spotted an art shop a few doors down the street on the other side. “Let’s see what those artists have for sale. We might find something suitable to hang in your room.” She led the way across the street.
    The artist was a beautiful young woman whose name was Victoria. She was busily painting when they entered the shop, and even as she talked to them she kept right on. Mandie and Celia watched her in fascination.
    As the painting took on a life of its own, Mandie exclaimed, “You are painting a white cat, just like Snowball, my cat back home!”
    The girl paused to look at Mandie, and with a sorrowful face,she said, “You are correct. This is going to be a portrait of a cat I owned several years ago, who died one day while chasing a dog.”
    â€œOh, I am so sorry.” Mandie offered the artist her sympathies.
    â€œWill that painting be for sale?” Mrs. Taft asked as the artist continued her work.
    â€œNo, madam, this is for myself,” the artist replied.
    â€œDo you suppose, then, that you could make another painting of a white cat? It really does look just like my granddaughter’s,” Mrs. Taft explained.
    The artist stopped painting again, looked at her with a half smile, and replied, “I would be happy to. I can have it ready in two weeks.”
    â€œOh, thank you!” Mandie exclaimed.
    â€œNow we must look at what you have for sale today and see if the girls would like any of those for their room at the college,” Mrs. Taft told Victoria.
    Victoria waved her hand toward the other side of the shop and said, “Anything you find over there is for sale today.” Then she continued painting.
    Mrs. Taft crossed to the other side of the shop, and the others followed. Victoria had paintings of many different subjects covering the wall and some standing down on the floor.
    â€œCelia, you get to choose because I am getting the cat,” Mandie told her.
    â€œHere is a horse,” Celia said, indicating one sitting on thefloor. Turning to her mother she said, “Doesn’t that remind you of our Frisky back home?”
    â€œYes, it does. It is the same kind of horse,” Jane Hamilton agreed. “Would you like that one, dear?”
    â€œYes, ma’am, please,” Celia said, smiling at her mother. “It would look nice hanging over one