Agnes glanced up, and reminded Minnie of her own work; but she was too busy in conjecturing what Hugh was about to heed.
He laid the piece out on the table, folded it in half, and proceeded to thread himself a needle.
"Are you going to work, Hugh?" asked the never-satisfied little maiden.
Hugh nodded, nowise disconcerted at her surprised tone, and soon he had begun to sew up the sides, clumsily enough perhaps, but still effectually.
Minnie found work was to be "the order of the day," so she relapsed into silence.
After an hour's close application, during which time Minnie had watched with curious eyes John's hand diving in and out of the rag-bag, Hugh pronounced his contribution done, and went over to his brother and asked him if his were ready. A whispered consultation ensued behind the cardboard box, and then there was some mysterious pushing and man[oe]uvring, which raised Minnie's expectation to the last extent. Her brothers, however, enjoyed keeping up the joke, and there was a fine laugh when they laid a neatly-finished cushion on the table in front of the inquisitive little girl.
"What is in it?" she asked, pinching and pulling it about.
"Only mother's woollen rags snipped up in tiny pieces," said Hugh.
"You should not have told her," remarked John; "but I say, don't my fingers ache! and isn't there a blister on my thumb?"
"Did you cut all that to-day?"