After a few minutes the little girl moved her right arm for the purpose of looking at another picture, when her thimble dropped from her finger to the table with a loud ringing sound. She started to pick it up, and in so doing pushed her scissors to the floor. The noise they made in falling led Jessie to glance towards the sofa, and to say in a very soft whisper—
“Oh dear! I’m afraid those naughty scissors have waked Uncle Morris out of his nap!”
Jessie was right. The noise had started Uncle Morris from a cozy little nap into which he had fallen after dinner. It was not often that the active old gentleman indulged himself in this way; but a long walk in the morning had made him weary, and he had quietly roamed into dreamland as he sat reading. He now opened his eyes, looked round the room, and seeing his niece looking askance at him, said—
“What’s the matter, Jessie? I heard something fall with a great crash, what was it?”
Jessie laughed outright. It was not very polite, but she could not very well keep the fun out of her face. It seemed so queer that her uncle should call the noise made by the fall of a pair of scissors a great crash. At last she said—
“There was no great crash, Uncle. Only my scissors fell from the table.”
“Was that all? Why it sounded to me just like the crash of a tray full of crockery ware. That was because I was half asleep, I suppose. Well, never mind, I’m not the first old gentleman who has magnified a little noise into a great one in his sleep—but what are you so busy about this afternoon, little puss!”
As Uncle Morris put this question he arose, walked up to the table and began to look at Jessie’s work, for by this time she had begun stitching on the cambric handkerchief again. Blushing deeply, she said—
“I am embroidering a pocket-handkerchief, Uncle.”
“Indeed! how fond you little ladies are of finery!” said Uncle Morris, smiling and patting Jessie’s head.