"So I have not," said Flora, and she sat down beside the little seamstress, and began to "remire" the various articles held up for inspection. She was compelled to see through Jem's eyes, however, for the shapes of the garments were not so striking or familiar as to suggest their names.
When at length she reluctantly took her leave, Ruth invited her to come soon again, to which she laughingly replied she certainly should. After this, matters went on more pleasantly at Flora's home. She busied herself with making the house look as cosy and as attractive as the shabby furniture and worn carpet would admit. She succeeded beyond her own expectations. She was gratified also that her brothers seemed to enjoy the improved condition of affairs, and so did her father when he was at home. Lottie's potato was now adding its mite to the general reform, and was sprouting nicely, sending its delicate white roots downward into the clear water, and its closely folded leaflets upward, to grow green in the warm sunlight. It seemed to be quite at home in the bright window. Flora had ceased to dream when she looked at her quaint friend. The days now, were too full to build air-castles. Mrs. Hazeley was pleased to shift her responsibility to Flora, who enjoyed nothing better than to have all her time occupied. Often, when tangles would come, Flora would run over to the ever-sympathetic Ruth, and receive advice from her. Thus, in being busy, Flora became more content, and often, as she thought of Aunt Sarah, she knew she would not be found fretting.
She had not yet attempted to influence the boys by word, but they soon noticed the new air of homeliness pervading the rooms, and consequently did not go out so much as had been their custom. Alec, the younger boy, was very mercurial and mischievous, while Harry, the elder, was quiet, and fond of reading.
One evening Harry seemed to be more than usually inclined to be sociable, and gave his mother and sister an animated account of something that had happened "down town," that day. When he finished he took up his book, and was just preparing to read, when Flora, eyeing the volume distrustfully, asked:
"What are you reading, Harry?"
Harry looked up at her quizzically, and answered her question by another.
"Why? What is it to you, anyway?"
"Nothing," said Flora, rather disconcerted. She was unaccustomed to boys, and had but little tact in dealing with them.
"I thought so," replied Harry, coolly, returning to his book.
"Will you not tell me what you are reading?" again asked Flora, not willing to be so easily vanquished.