“This will be a good place to begin again,” said Miss Ruth; “we will have the rest of the story at the next Club meeting, if you like.”
“I want it now,” insisted Betty; “I can stay.”
“But I can’t,” said Ben, “only about a minute longer. I will think the first part over, going home, to tell Alice.”
“I hope she can come to the next meeting,” said Elsa, with a loyal thought for her little friend.
“You must tell her, Ben, that we have missed her a great deal,” Miss Ruth said.
“And give her the Club’s love,” added Elsa.
“I like to have you do that,” said Betty, who had given up teasing and suddenly grown very quiet as Miss Ruth passed her hand slowly over the rumpled brown hair.
Elsa looked on, from her seat against the tall brass fire-stand. She was too loving-natured to be jealous, but she would have dearly liked to be in Betty’s place, there against Miss Ruth’s knees. Still, Elsa was very happy. Miss Ruth’s dark red dress was so warm-looking in the firelight, and the room seemed so pleasant; it was restful and delightful just to be there. Elsa felt this keenly, although she would not have been able to put it into words.
“Do you know what fire-sparks are?” asked Ben, who was leaning on his elbows with his chin in his hands, and looking straight into the glowing fire. “Sparks are the sunbeams that got shut up in the wood while the tree was growing, and now they are going up the chimney and back into the air again.”
Sarah Judd, passing the library door to light the hall lamp, looked in for a moment, unnoticed by the Club. “It do seem good to see them children stretched out in front of the fire and havin’ such a good time,” she said to herself, with one of the unexpectedly cracking-like smiles upon her grim face.