“I know it, it is all right, papa—I’m agreed!” cried Frank, abruptly, leaving the room.
“Very well, then, here’s the purse. I’ll put it into Miss Lane’s hands—she’ll be prudent. Are you satisfied, Kitten?” pulling Rosie’s ears.
“Yes, papa, for I thought you might want Dolly, and you know I love Dolly—that would have been sad.”
“I think we must manage a dolly for little Alice, too, Miss Lane,” said Mr. Graham.
Rosie started a little anxiously. A look of perplexity puckered her smooth forehead, and all day she moved about in an unusually thoughtful manner. Towards evening, as Miss Lane was going to her own room to get her bonnet and cloak, before setting out for Mrs. Ross’s dwelling, in order to make inquiries into her necessities, she heard a little voice talking in the nursery, and going to the door, peeped in. Rosie sat on the floor, with her little bureau of doll’s clothing before her. She had the precious plaything in her arm, and was soothing it with gentle words.
“Now you must not cry, for I shall come to see you sometimes, and I hope Alice will be good to you. But, you know, she never had a dolly, nor a present in all her life—just think how dreadful, and her papa’s gone, and they have no wood to make a fire: so you must comfort Alice, for she must be very unhappy. I am sure I love you very much, better than anything I have, and that is the reason I give you away. You have made me so happy that I think you’ll make Alice happy too, and then she won’t cry when she comes to Sunday school any more. It makes me so sad to see her.”
The tears were in Rosie’s eyes, her lip was quivering. Her sacrifice was greater than that of all the rest. Miss Lane stole away on tip-toe, much touched. When she was ready to go, a timid voice begged leave to accompany her, and the little girl carried her treasure in silence to the poor child, whose face lighted with such joy on seeing it, that content came into Rosie’s face immediately; so that, though her voice trembled, she smiled in begging Alice to “take good care of it,” and trotted home briskly and happily.
It was the very next day that Lillie and Jennie were to begin the stockings for Alice, and Lillie, knitting-needle in hand, was trying patiently to follow Miss Lane’s directions about the beginning, while Jennie sat sullenly looking out of the window, wishing she had no stain on her conscience to make her ashamed of going into the parlor with the rest.