CHAPTER XV.
WHERE ONE PUDDING WENT.
gnes was one of those girls who loved to be a true elder sister. Many a time, when she sat down to tell a story, she would have preferred to bury herself in an interesting book, or to go on with a piece of painting, or delicate needlework; but by experience she had learned the blessedness of giving rather than taking pleasure, and her restless brothers interested for an hour, or Alice's and Minnie's hearts warmed and stirred up by a story, was, in her estimation, something accomplished for her Lord and Master.
So when the day after Christmas-day dawned, and found them all a little out of sorts, with later hours, and more excitement than usual, she took the opportunity to gather them together to hear the account of where the puddings went, and how they were received.
John threw himself into an arm-chair with a yawn, Hugh stretched himself on the sofa with his face downwards, while Alice and Minnie sat on the hearthrug resting their heads against her knee.
Agnes was not offended at her brothers' positions, knowing that their fatigued dulness meant no disrespect to her, and would soon change to interest in her narration when once she began.