"Mr. Gage," said she, pointing to a work-box close to him, "shall I trouble you to give me that box?"
Mr. Gage brought it her; she took out of it what she wanted, and then returned him the box. He sat down beside her still holding it.
"I think you don't often work," he said. "I do not remember to have seen you."
"No. This is not work exactly; this is crochet," said Harriet, holding up a purse of blue and silver twist. "Don't you think it very handsome?"
"Yes. Only so stiff; you could not draw it through a ring."
"Of course not; it is to have a clasp. See, this will match it very well; silver and turquoise. Now, wrap it up again in the silver paper. Put it neatly away. Now who do you think it is for?"
Mr. Gage's brow darkened.
"Uncle Singleton! When he plays at cards, he always likes to have a handsome purse. Would you believe it? I think it is only that he may have the pleasure of saying, 'My niece Harriet made this for me.!'"
"You are a great favourite there," said Mr. Gage, looking quite comfortable again.
"Can you wonder?" said Harriet, looking very like a coquette into his face.