Jennie’s silks were untangled, and Mr. Graham’s eyes were wide open; but bed time had come for Tan and Rosie, and so they had to be satisfied for that evening.
Christmas came and went. Allie Ross and her mother were made happy, and Lillie finished the stockings. Poor Jennie succeeded only in finishing her “odds and ends” by New Year, and very sad and dispirited she grew over the work many times; but when it was over, and she began fresh and with a clear conscience, she was glad of the discipline.
Christmas Day did not seem dull, though not a single present filled the stocking of any. Mr. Graham had no idea of making the sacrifice incomplete: he intended that his children should feel what self-denial meant, and learn to practise it.
It was some time before Miss Lane finished her “Life,” as the little ones called it. It was rather a mild day—one of the January thawing ones—before they heard the whole.
“Did your cousin Robbie get to be a good boy, Miss Lane,” asked Rosie, while they were all in the parlor, before evening came on.
“Yes. I told you about my cousin Robbie when I first came here. It was he that wandered in the snow, trying to escape from the Indians in New Mexico.”
“Oh, what a pity!”
“I don’t know, my dears; he did his work, and God gave him rest,” was the answer.
“It seems sad to die, though.”
“Not to every body, my children.”