Part 17 (1/2)

Those leaves gave Emmie a feeling of shame whenever her glance chanced to fall on the almost undiminished packet.

”I wish that more of the children knew how to read,” observed Susan in a doubtful tone.

”If they cannot read, surely most of their parents can,” said Emmie, her wish being father to her thought. ”If such good seed be sown broadcast, certainly some benefit must result. Yes,” she continued cheerfully, ”I will make friends with the little children, and through them a.s.sist the parents whose homes I cannot visit.”

Then came the question of ways and means. Miss Trevor was rather pleased than otherwise to find that her little project would involve some need of self-denial. She had five pounds remaining of her allowance, money which she had intended to spend in other ways, but which she would devote to the Christmas treat.

”I'll not send this,” said Emmie, tearing up a note which she had written to a circulating library in London; ”I will do without new books for a time. Then as for the warm dress which I meant to purchase, your clever fingers, Susan, will make my present blue cashmere serve me for another winter in a quiet place like this.”

The pleasure of seeing the eyes of fifty children sparkling with delight at the feast to which she would invite them, the joy of imparting so much innocent joy, would, as Emmie truly thought, out-weigh the small gratification of buying that with which she so easily could dispense.

”And now, Susan, bring down my basket of odds and ends, and--stay--you will find pieces of muslin and ribbon in my left-hand drawer. We must see what we can make use of in dressing dolls, making pincus.h.i.+ons and needle-books, and devise something suitable as gifts for the little boys.”

Susan went, and soon returned with a basketful of such materials as woman's taste and skill can transform into a thousand attractive forms.

The snow-flakes were falling faster and thicker; gra.s.sy lawn and gravel path were now covered with a sheet of spotless white, which hid every roughness and smoothed away every blemish. Emmie was no longer troubling herself with thoughts of her follies and failings. With the eagerness natural to youth, she was preparing for the pleasant task which she had set herself to perform, a task which would at the same time employ her fingers, amuse her mind, and quiet her conscience. See her on her knees on the hearth-rug beside the blazing fire, with her basket of odds and ends beside her, and a pile of half-worn-out clothes placed on a chair.

Emmie is sorting and arranging, planning and preparing, cutting out work for herself and Susan that will keep them both happily and usefully engaged for weeks. It is wonderful how care is lightened, and what mental suns.h.i.+ne comes with occupations such as this. Emmie's thoughts, instead of brooding over imaginary terrors, are full of ingenious devices for improving this and altering that, making old things look new, and astonis.h.i.+ng simple rustics by elegant trifles such as they never before could have seen.

”Now take up these clothes and look to the patching,” said Emmie, dismissing her maid.--”I will send at once to London for the Testaments,” she added to herself after Susan had left the apartment.

”My five pounds will cover that expense, as well as the cost of my simple feast,--tea and cake, oranges and buns; and then there must be a trifle for lights for my tree.”

Humming cheerfully to herself, Emmie rose from her kneeling position and went to her desk, which lay on the drawing-room table. She unlocked and opened it, and then took out a pocket-book within which was her five-pound note. Joe was to take the pony that day to be shod at S----, so Emmie drew out a form for a money-order for the Bible Society to be procured at the same time. Emmie, with the order and bank-note in her hand, was about to ring the bell for the footman, when Vibert entered the drawing-room. He looked at the hearth-rug, strewn with many-coloured sc.r.a.ps and cuttings from the overflowing basket which Emmie had been ransacking for materials for her charity work.

”You here still, Vibert!” exclaimed his sister, pausing with her hand on the old-fas.h.i.+oned bell-rope which hung by the fire-place. ”I thought that you had been for the last hour poring over your books at S----.

Were you afraid of the snow that you stopped at home this morning?”

”Afraid!” echoed Vibert. ”No; I leave that word, like bodkins and hair-pins, for the use of the ladies. The truth is, that I wanted, before I set off for the town, to ask,--but what is that which you have in your hand?” asked the youth as his glance, and an eager glance it was, fell on his sister's five-pound note.

”I am going to tell Joe to procure me a money-order,” said Emmie, making a movement to ring the bell; but a quick sign from Vibert prevented her from drawing down the heavy bell-rope.

”Stop, Emmie!” cried her brother; ”you would do me such a kindness if you were to lend me that five-pound note.”

Emmie, for more than one reason, was annoyed at her brother's request.

This was by no means the first time that Vibert had wanted to borrow money, and he had a very indifferent memory as regarded payment of debts. Vibert saw his sister's look of vexation and the slight frown which for a moment ruffled the smoothness of her fair brow.

”I a.s.sure you, darling,” he said in a coaxing manner, ”that the loan would be a great, a very great convenience to me. I hate asking papa for more money; he seems to feel more pinched now than he did before he came in for a fortune. When I tell him that I can't manage to keep within my allowance, he twits me with the prudence and moderation of Bruce, as if I could skin flints or count farthings like Bruce.”

There was scorn in the tone of Vibert as he uttered the last sentence, which roused the spirit of Emmie in defence of her absent brother.

”Bruce is no skin-flint!” she cried; ”he does many a kind and generous thing. If he saves, it is on himself; there is not a particle of selfishness in his nature!”

Emmie had not intended to strike at one brother whilst defending the other; but Vibert was in an excited, irritable mood, and took his sister's words as a palpable hit at himself.

”You are the last person from whom I should have expected such a taunt,”

said the spendthrift bitterly. ”I thought that if I had no other friend in the world I should find one, Emmie, in you.”

”Always! always!” cried his sister eagerly; ”I would do anything for you, dear Vibert.”