"Why, papa, I would gather all the apples I could find on it and make them all into apple-dumplings, for poor little girls who had sick mothers, and could not afford to buy any."
Mrs. Selwhyn could no longer refrain from pressing her darling girl to her maternal bosom, for at this moment a mother's heart was quite full; while Mr. Selwhyn, equally delighted, affectionately kissed his beloved daughter.
"Mrs. Selwhyn," said he, "I believe it is high time to produce the red morocco purse; it is really growing quite troublesome in my pocket."
"Then suppose you give it without further delay," rejoined Mrs. Selwhyn.
"Emma, your papa is going to present you with a birth-day gift; a little red morocco purse."
"With money in it?" inquired Emma.
"Yes, my love: a purse is of little use without there is money it."
Emma was silent, but her blushing cheeks and sparkling eyes evinced the secret pleasure which this intelligence conveyed.
Mr. Selwhyn, while presenting his daughter with her birth-day gift, said, "now Emma, place this carefully in your pocket; and though you need not now examine its contents, remember they are entirely your own, and you are at liberty to make use of them agreeable to your own inclinations."