“You see,” said Jennie, thoughtfully, standing in the middle of the room, with her head on one side, “I was sewing here, and I was in great haste to get done. Rosie came in and wanted me to read her ‘The Children in the Wood.’ So I got up there to reach the book—you see, there is just where it was on the shelf—and then, I don’t remember anything more about the thimble. I did not sew again, and when it was too dark to read I forgot all about the slippers and book, too—because you were playing a favorite piece in the parlor.”
“I wonder what your papa would say to those mud stains on his ‘Reliques?’ You must have left the book on the floor, and Tan trod on it. If it were my book, I should not value it after it had been so defaced.”
“Oh!” answered Jennie, carelessly, “he can easily get another one.”
“You can buy more material for the slippers, and another thimble, too; but don’t you know that the money for those things would buy Mrs. Ross a cloak, or pay for the splitting of all her winter’s wood? The book must have been an expensive one, and your thimble was gold.”
“I never thought of it in that light,” said Jennie, slowly. “Then I suppose we ought to be careful, even if we have everything we want.”
“Certainly, we have to account for the way in which we spend or waste money, as well as time.”
Jennie looked up in dismay.
“Oh! Miss Lane, what an array there will be against us at the time of reckoning. So many things I have done wrong, though the day is not half done!”
“You began wrong in the first place!”
“I know it, and I meant to do all right. I don’t believe there is much use in trying;” and she sat down despondently.