RP: Order Delivery
Date: 13 June 2005
Character(s): Daphne Greengrass & Mrs Witherbottom
Location: The Gildery
Status: Private
Summary: Mrs Witherbottom comes back to pick up an order.
Completion: Complete
Well, it was inevitable. After sending an owl to Mrs. Witherbottom yesterday afternoon that her order was ready, it would have been too optimistic, even by Mr Lockhart's standards of optimism, to hope that she wouldn't show up.
Mrs Witherbottom frowned and stared hard at the fabric in front of her.
"What exactly do you call this, young lady?" she snapped.
Daphne told her that it was the type of fabric and colour she had ordered.
"Of course it isn't," Mrs Witherbottom scoffed. "I ordered red. This is clearly crimson."
"It's the exact colour you asked for, Mrs Witherbottom," Daphne replied and took out the colour charts for comparison. "See?"
"I know perfectly well which colour I ordered!" Mrs Witherbottom said angrily, wagging a finger in Daphne's face. "And this is not it. Do you think I don't know which colour I need?"
"No, of course not," Daphne sighed resignedly. "Would you like me to put in a new order for a different colour?"
"I will not pay for this twice. It's bad enough you're forcing me to wait this long and then give me the wrong colour." Mrs Witherbottom narrowed her eyes, staring menacingly at Daphne. "I'll have make do with this..." Mrs Witherbottom poked the red fabric with one finger, as if it was made of filth. "I believe I shall have a word with your employer about your impertinent behaviour, young woman!"
"Mr Lockhart is out of town at the moment on urgent business," Daphne replied as calmly as she could. She had told this lie so many times by now it was getting easier.
"Nonsense. You're just trying to keep me from telling him about this, aren't you girl? Well, I'm not that gullible. Go get him at once." Mrs. Witherbottom knocked her cane against the floor as if in emphasis of her orders.
"But he's not here," Mrs Witherbottom!" Daphne was losing her patience with this woman. It was bad enough that Mrs Witherbottom refused to accept that she had remembered the colour wrong, but to have her stand there and insist on talking to Mr Lockhart as if Daphne was supposed to be able to conjure him out of thin air was almost more than she could handle.
"Very well, if you refuse to listen, I'll just have to go fetch him myself!"
Daphne wondered why Mrs Witherbottom even had a walking cane in the first place seeing as how fast the elderly witch could move. She was halfway into the kitchen before Daphne even had time to react and stop her. Hopefully though the peek into the kitchen would convince Mrs Witherbottom that Mr Lockhart really wasn't here. Mrs Witherbottom grumped to herself and started towards the basement.
"Please, Mrs Witherbottom, I'm telling you he isn't here!" Daphne almost pleaded.
It seemed as if she finally managed to get the old woman's attention.
"When is he coming back, then?"
"I don't know, Mrs Witherbottom." Daphne said, hoping she would just let it rest at that and leave. She deliberately didn't suggest that she sent him an owl. Howlers from Mrs Witherbottom was the last thing he needed.
"I see. I will speak to him when he comes back, then." Mrs Witherbottom conceded. "Don't think I'll forget about this, young lady!"
"Of course not, Mrs Witherbottom.
With one last glare Mrs Witherbottom took her fabric and left. As soon as she was out of the door, Daphne sank down into a chair as if all her bones had been turned into water. Usually she could cope with Mrs Witherbottom with only a mild weariness as a result. Not today, though. She was too worried about Mr Lockhart and too angry at Mr Avery and just too plain tired. It took her a couple of minutes to stop shaking and several more to realise that Mrs Witherbottom had left without paying.
"Why, that old bat!" she hissed furiously as she quickly wrote down what Mrs Witherbottom owed. Most likely she would never admit to not having paid for her order. Angry at herself for having let Mrs Witherbottom push her about like that, she collected the papers from the shipping and put them aside. She couldn't deal with it now.
Character(s): Daphne Greengrass & Mrs Witherbottom
Location: The Gildery
Status: Private
Summary: Mrs Witherbottom comes back to pick up an order.
Completion: Complete
Well, it was inevitable. After sending an owl to Mrs. Witherbottom yesterday afternoon that her order was ready, it would have been too optimistic, even by Mr Lockhart's standards of optimism, to hope that she wouldn't show up.
Mrs Witherbottom frowned and stared hard at the fabric in front of her.
"What exactly do you call this, young lady?" she snapped.
Daphne told her that it was the type of fabric and colour she had ordered.
"Of course it isn't," Mrs Witherbottom scoffed. "I ordered red. This is clearly crimson."
"It's the exact colour you asked for, Mrs Witherbottom," Daphne replied and took out the colour charts for comparison. "See?"
"I know perfectly well which colour I ordered!" Mrs Witherbottom said angrily, wagging a finger in Daphne's face. "And this is not it. Do you think I don't know which colour I need?"
"No, of course not," Daphne sighed resignedly. "Would you like me to put in a new order for a different colour?"
"I will not pay for this twice. It's bad enough you're forcing me to wait this long and then give me the wrong colour." Mrs Witherbottom narrowed her eyes, staring menacingly at Daphne. "I'll have make do with this..." Mrs Witherbottom poked the red fabric with one finger, as if it was made of filth. "I believe I shall have a word with your employer about your impertinent behaviour, young woman!"
"Mr Lockhart is out of town at the moment on urgent business," Daphne replied as calmly as she could. She had told this lie so many times by now it was getting easier.
"Nonsense. You're just trying to keep me from telling him about this, aren't you girl? Well, I'm not that gullible. Go get him at once." Mrs. Witherbottom knocked her cane against the floor as if in emphasis of her orders.
"But he's not here," Mrs Witherbottom!" Daphne was losing her patience with this woman. It was bad enough that Mrs Witherbottom refused to accept that she had remembered the colour wrong, but to have her stand there and insist on talking to Mr Lockhart as if Daphne was supposed to be able to conjure him out of thin air was almost more than she could handle.
"Very well, if you refuse to listen, I'll just have to go fetch him myself!"
Daphne wondered why Mrs Witherbottom even had a walking cane in the first place seeing as how fast the elderly witch could move. She was halfway into the kitchen before Daphne even had time to react and stop her. Hopefully though the peek into the kitchen would convince Mrs Witherbottom that Mr Lockhart really wasn't here. Mrs Witherbottom grumped to herself and started towards the basement.
"Please, Mrs Witherbottom, I'm telling you he isn't here!" Daphne almost pleaded.
It seemed as if she finally managed to get the old woman's attention.
"When is he coming back, then?"
"I don't know, Mrs Witherbottom." Daphne said, hoping she would just let it rest at that and leave. She deliberately didn't suggest that she sent him an owl. Howlers from Mrs Witherbottom was the last thing he needed.
"I see. I will speak to him when he comes back, then." Mrs Witherbottom conceded. "Don't think I'll forget about this, young lady!"
"Of course not, Mrs Witherbottom.
With one last glare Mrs Witherbottom took her fabric and left. As soon as she was out of the door, Daphne sank down into a chair as if all her bones had been turned into water. Usually she could cope with Mrs Witherbottom with only a mild weariness as a result. Not today, though. She was too worried about Mr Lockhart and too angry at Mr Avery and just too plain tired. It took her a couple of minutes to stop shaking and several more to realise that Mrs Witherbottom had left without paying.
"Why, that old bat!" she hissed furiously as she quickly wrote down what Mrs Witherbottom owed. Most likely she would never admit to not having paid for her order. Angry at herself for having let Mrs Witherbottom push her about like that, she collected the papers from the shipping and put them aside. She couldn't deal with it now.