She found Celia and Agnes in the library talking earnestly. There was a pleasant aroma of gingerbread pervading the house, and the fire in the open grate looked very cheerful. What a dear place home was, and how glad she was always to get back to it. Agnes held out her hand as she came in. “Well, chickabiddy,” she said, “where have you been? You are as rosy as an apple.”
“I’ve been down to Nettie’s. I’m glad I don’t have to darn my stockings.”
“Does Nettie have to?”
“Yes, and she has to wash the dishes, too. I did darn my stockings last year, but Katie does them all this year, so I don’t even have to be sorry for mother and think of her doing them, for Katie is paid to do them.”
Agnes laughed. “But I have no doubt you would do them just as cheerfully as Nettie does, if you had to do them.”
“I don’t know about the cheerful part, but I wouldn’t yell and scream.”
“Let us hope you would not,” said Celia. “I should hope you knew better than to behave like that.”
“Of course,” said Edna. “What were you talking about, you two?”
“Shall we tell her, Agnes?” asked Celia.
“Why not? It will soon be talked over by all of us.”