“Bless her! the smile of a seraph is on her lips.”
As Uncle Morris foretold, Emily and Charlie left their sulks in dreamland. It would have been well if they had left the selfishness, from which their conduct of the evening before sprung, in the same place. But that still clung to them like the leprosy, and though they wore bright faces, they still carried fireworks in their bosom, ready to explode whenever a spark might happen to touch them.
Jessie greeted her cousins with gentle words and loving kisses, just as if she had never seen them in a fit of bad temper. Indeed, she made no allusion whatever to the affair of the day before. This silence puzzled the cousins, who expected, at least, a lecture from Uncle Morris and a little coldness from Jessie. I think it also made them feel ashamed, for they could not help saying to themselves,—
“It was rather mean in us to make such a fuss as we did yesterday.”
Just after breakfast, while Jessie was showing Emily her six dolls, neither of which had a perfect dress, for Jessie never finished any thing, and Charlie was playing with Guy’s india-rubber ball in the hall, Hugh plunged in at the front door, and, rushing into the sitting-room, said:—
“Jessie, what will you give me if I tell you a secret?”
“A kiss,” replied Jessie, gathering her lips into the form of a rose-bud.
“Pooh! what’s a kiss. I wouldn’t give you a red cent for a thousand kisses. Won’t you offer me something better for my secret?” said Hugh, turning up his nose as if in scorn of the proffered kiss.
“I don’t believe you have any secret that we care about knowing,” said Jessie. Then holding up her best wax doll, she said to Emily, “Isn’t this a beauty?”
“Yes, but why don’t you coax Hugh to tell us his wonderful secret?” said Emily, who felt quite curious to know what Hugh had to tell.