"You will soon find out your mistake, my dear," said Aunt Meg from her couch by the fire. "I question if one of your friends will be dressed in so simple and cheap a material. Why, you will be a regular dowdy, and I told Judith so when she showed me her purchase. She could hardly have bought a less expensive fabric."
"Nonsense, Meg," put in Miss Deborah with a displeased frown and rapid glance at Nellie's amazed countenance; "don't place absurd ideas in the child's head. You know perfectly well muslin makes a most appropriate dress for a young girl. I wonder what Judith would say were she to hear you speak in that manner?"
"Look like a saint, and preach to Nellie on the vanity and vexation of the human heart," replied the invalid, who seemed to be decidedly out of humour. "I am well aware of Judith's style, Debby: that is how she covers her stinginess," and Miss Margaret gave a little sarcastic laugh at this point.
"Hush!" almost shouted Miss Deborah, turning a pair of bright, angry eyes in the direction of the couch. "How dare you utter such an untruth? Simply because one of your endless wishes was thwarted. Meg, I am ashamed of you!" and Aunt Debby resumed her sewing with an air of heavy displeasure, while the invalid relapsed into sulky silence, the cause of her ill-humour being Aunt Judith's refusal that morning to grant her a new dressing-gown. "Wait a little longer, Meg; I can hardly afford it just now, and your old one still looks pretty and fresh," had been the quiet answer to the proffered request; but that was sufficient to upset the invalid's equanimity for the rest of the day, and no amount of kindness could soothe her wounded feelings.
Of course Nellie was ignorant of all this. Still, although she did not believe Miss Margaret's statement in reference to Miss Latimer's meanness, the words left a sting, and the pretty dress seemed divested of half its beauty. "Aunt Judith might have purchased something just a trifle more expensive," was the unuttered thought ever rising to her lips; but, oh! how her heart reproached her when, on the evening of the party, Miss Latimer called her into the little sanctum, and, shutting the door, lifted a small box from the table and proceeded to unfasten the lock.
"Aunt Debby has just been showing me your dress, Nellie," she said in her soft gentle voice, "and now that it is finished I think it very pretty indeed. I hardly know why, but I have an idea you consider it too simple for evening wear; and although I am sorry should such be the case, I cannot agree with you. The dress seems to me quite suitable, and its charm lies in its very simplicity. A little trinket round the neck, however, might be an improvement, and so, dear, I am going to forestall my Christmas present and give it to you now. I suppose you will value it none the less because I used to wear it long ago in my girlhood days;" and Miss Latimer, lifting a string of fairest pearls from the box, clasped them round her niece's neck as she spoke.
Nellie's breath came quick and fast.
"O auntie! they are never for me," she gasped excitedly. "They are so beautiful, and I have been thinking such horrid things."
Aunt Judith smiled. "I do not blame you, child. It is only natural such thoughts should crop up; but, Nellie, I am not so very rich, and cannot afford to be lavish with my money. One never knows what may happen, and I must needs guard against a rainy day. No, no; not another reproachful word. I like to see my child look fair and sweet. Good-night, dear." And kissing her softly. Miss Latimer pushed the repentant girl from the room with gentle hands. Then closing the door, she drew a low chair close to the fire, and, as she sat quietly thinking, the white, set look Nellie had noticed before settled over the patient face, while the lips quivered and drooped like those of one in pain.
What was the mystery in Aunt Judith's life? What suffering had stamped its refining image on that noble, true face, and bore witness to the fiery trial through which she had passed?