A Dear Little Girl

by Amy Ella Blanchard

"Of course I haven't. They just want to show their power over me, and I am half starved, I haven't had anything but bread and water."

Edna's eyes filled. "I wish I had something nice to give you to eat," she said, in distress.

"I wish you had," replied Louis.

"O, I hear some one," cried Edna, suddenly, and she shut down the window, hastily.

But the footsteps proved to be only those of Ellen going through the hall. Edna, nevertheless, did not dare to venture into the storeroom again at once, for Uncle Justus was apt any minute to awaken, and thinking to divert Louis by playing with Moggins in the yard, the little girl went out and tried to display the cat to the boy at the window above, but he stood watching her with such an unsmiling face that Edna was overcome with pity.

"I suppose he is almost starved," she said, to herself. "It isn't likely Ellen would dare to give me anything for him. I wish I had some pennies, but I have given them all to auntie for the fair." She stood pondering over the subject when her eye caught sight of a covered dish standing on a bench by the kitchen door. Edna lifted the cover and saw that the dish was full of baked apples which had been placed there to cool for supper. Without stopping to think, she picked up two of the apples by their stems and thrust them into her little clean handkerchief which, still unfolded, had been lying in her pocket.

Holding the four corners of the handkerchief together, she ran upstairs to the storeroom. She had heard Uncle Justus go out for a walk, and she knew that Aunt Elizabeth would not return till dark.

In response to the raising of the window Louis' window also opened. "I have something for you," said Edna, hastily; "but I don't know how to get it to you. It's in my handkerchief. Wait a minute." She had an idea, for presently out of the window came a rod, on the end of which was tied the handkerchief of baked apples. Exercising much care, Edna managed to direct the pole—which was the handle of the window brush—to Louis' window and the apples were taken in. Then Edna drew back the stick, set it up in its place, and ran up to her room to think about it.

She did not feel comfortable over the matter. Only a short time ago her aunt and uncle had been kinder to her than she had reason to expect they could be, and now to find them so harsh to Louis seemed a contradiction. Perhaps he had been naughty and deserved the punishment. She remembered with regret that Louis did not always speak the truth; once or twice he had screened himself by blaming her for something of which she was innocent. At all events she had no right to take the apples. Why, they didn't belong to her! Of course, they didn't. She wouldn't eat any for supper, and in that way she could replace them. Edna was very fond of baked apples, and the sacrifice decided upon, she felt more comfortable.

So, at supper she did refuse the apples, an unusual proceeding which caused her aunt to look at her so sharply that Edna felt those penetrating eyes were seeing straight into her very heart, and she colored up, taking a very long, slow drink of water to hide her embarrassment.