"I thought you loved to work so?" said Ernestine, in answer to this last comparison. "You're always preaching independence."
"So I do," answered Olive, setting her cup down with crackable force. "I never would be idle, but I could choose more pleasant kind of work than sitting in Mr. Dane's office all day; it's the dreariest place I ever got into."
"Well, anyhow, Christmas is coming," said Bea, nodding cheerfully over the coffee-urn.
"More's the pity," said Kittie disconsolately. "We're not going to get anything; it'll be awful poky."
"But mama'll be home for ten days; oh, bliss!" cried Kat, waving her teaspoon, and every cloudy face brightened. "Can't we give her something, girls?"
"I don't see how," said Ernestine. "It takes every cent we all earn to keep things going. Who ever thought we'd be so poor? Just think of last Christmas, how glorious!"
Everybody remembered, and faces saddened again. How gay the house had been in evergreens! how mysterious the locked parlors, where all knew, a tree stood, branching up to the ceiling; how blissfully happy everybody had been during the two weeks when the world becomes one in spirit and truth, and the god of good-will wields the sceptre and wears the crown! Father had been with them, dear, unselfish, great-hearted papa, whose every exertion had been to make them all happy and whose dearest hope and prayer had been that his girls might be noble, splendid women, with pure, true hearts and the spirit of God therein.
"Olive, will you bring some butter when you come home? This is the last drop," said Kittie, scraping the dish, and collecting the silver, after the meal was finished, as it was very soon, for breakfasts were hurried now-a-days.
"Yes; two pounds? That's the third time this month; our bill will be pretty big. If I'm very busy I will not be home to dinner."
"Sha'n't I fix some lunch for you?"