“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 assist 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 pincushions 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; grassy 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 sunshine 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 astonishing 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 scraps 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-fashioned 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?”