Prosperity's child

by Eleanora H. Stooke

"Oh, Ruthie!" cried Violet, whilst Ann looked her surprise; "certainly Ann and I have become great friends, but I love you and all of them at home as much as I ever did—more, I believe."

"Yes, but it might have been otherwise," Ruth reminded her; "I thought you might learn to despise your home. You see I didn't know Mrs. Reed and Ann when you left home, Vi. You are so different from what I had pictured you, Ann."

"Now I do wonder what you and Violet thought I should be like," said Ann, looking puzzled; "I wish you would tell me, for I have so often been curious upon the point and wanted to know. Both of you have told me the same, that I am different from what you had pictured me."

"Shall I tell her, Ruth?" asked Violet, laughing mischievously. Then, as her sister nodded assent, she continued: "Well, one day, after Dr. Reed had been to see us at Streatham, we were speaking of you, and mother called you Prosperity's child—"

"Prosperity's child!" broke in Ann, opening her grey eyes very wide in her surprise. "Prosperity's child?" she echoed, inquiringly.

"Yes," nodded Violet, "I'd been wondering what you were like, and I said, I remember, that I expected you had everything heart could desire. Oh, I was in a horrid, grumbling mood! and mother said that doubtless you had all that father and she would give me if they could, and she reminded me that I was a poor man's daughter and that you were—Prosperity's child. You see we knew that your father had got on well in the world, and we thought—I'm speaking of Ruth and myself now, I don't know what mother's ideas were—that you wouldn't understand anything about the pinches and privations some people get. That's why I was shy about talking of our home to you at first; you see I'd often heard father say that prosperity spoilt people—"

"Some people," corrected Ruth hastily, "he said prosperity had not spoilt Dr. Reed."

"But we didn't know the effect it might have had on you, you know, Ann," Violet went on; "I thought you would be proud and—and selfish very likely, and want to have everything all your own way, and I believe I half feared you might look down on me—Oh, I know you never did! You have all along showed me more consideration than I deserved." She paused a moment, then continued:—

"When I came here first I was surprised at a great many things; I saw that Mrs. Reed managed the house carefully that she might have more to give away, and—and it astonished me that you should take so much interest in people I should never have thought of having anything to do with myself—people like the Medlands, for instance. And I had actually been afraid that you might be a girl like Agnes Hosking, Ann!"

"Poor Agnes!" exclaimed Ann. Her face was growing less puzzled. She had been looking grave and a little hurt, but now a faint, amused smile hovered around her lips. "Poor Agnes," she repeated in pitying accents, "I wonder if we shall ever hear of her again?"