It was a beautiful heavy shawl of the soft wool of the Cashmere goats; really of every kind of brilliant hue, but so dexterously blended together, that the whole looked dark and sober. But Kate did not look with favour on the shawl.
“A shawl is so stupid,” she said. “If you please, I had rather Mary had the work-box.”
“But the work-box is for Lady Fanny.”
“Oh! but I meant my own,” said Kate earnestly. “If you only knew what a pity it is to give nice things to me; they always get into such a mess. Now, Mary always has her things so nice; and she works so beautifully; she has never let Lily wear a stitch but of her setting; and she always wished for a box like this. One of her friends at school had a little one; and she used to say, when we played at roe’s egg, that she wanted nothing but an ivory work-box; and she has nothing but an old blue one, with the steel turned black!”
“We must hear what your uncle says, for you must know that he meant the box for you.”
“It isn’t that I don’t care for it,” said Kate, with a sudden glistening in her eyes; “it is because I do care for it so very much that I want Mary to have it.”
“I know it is, my dear;” and her aunt kissed her; “but we must think about it a little. Perhaps Mary would not think an Indian shawl quite so stupid as you do.”
“Mary isn’t a nasty vain conceited girl!” cried Kate indignantly. “She always looks nice; but I heard Papa say her dress did not cost much more than Sylvia’s and mine, because she never tore anything, and took such care!”
“Well, we will see,” said Mrs. Umfraville, perhaps not entirely convinced that the shawl would not be a greater prize to the thrifty girl than Kate perceived.
Kate meanwhile had sprung unmolested on a beautiful sandalwood case for Sylvia, and a set of rice-paper pictures for Lily; and the appropriating other treasures to the De la Poers, packing them up, and directing them, accompanied with explanations of their habits and tastes, lasted till so late, that after the litter was cleared away there was only time for one game at chess with the grand pieces; and in truth the honour of using them was greater than the pleasure. They covered up the board, so that there was no seeing the squares, and it was necessary to be most inconveniently cautious in lifting them. They were made to be looked at, not played with; and yet, wonderful to relate, Kate did not do one of the delicate things a mischief!