“I dare say I have some upstairs in my wardrobe.”
“Could I go and get it, mamma?”
“No; you know that I never allow you to search there,” said the lady, who, having lined the bright tin box with paper, was trying every possible position in which an awkward shaped parcel could take up least room.
Lily remained silent for a few minutes, but without occupying herself with anything but the thought how she could persuade her mother to give her at once what she had set her heart upon obtaining. At length she cautiously commenced with, “I am rather in a hurry to begin.”
“I will look out the piece for you when next I go upstairs.”
Lily gave a very audible sigh.
“This would be just the time for working,” murmured she.
“I shall have no peace till I get it for the child,” exclaimed Mrs. Ellerslie, half to herself; and the too indulgent mother left her parcels and her box, to commence a search for some small remnants of cloth, which, to judge by the length of her absence, she had a good deal of trouble in finding.
“Now, do not interrupt me any more,” she said, as she placed them in the eager hand of Lily, and turned, by more active exertions, to make up for the time which she had lost.
The girl bore them off in triumph to her work-box; but here a new difficulty arose. She snipped off this corner and that corner, by the aid of Mrs. Scissors, but could not satisfy herself with the shape. Again she approached her mother at the table: “Please to make me a good round, mamma. I have tried, but I cannot do it myself.”