“You don’t mind, do you, Cloudy, dear? You don’t think I’m officious or impertinent?” begged Leslie anxiously. “It was Allison’s idea to get the hat to match the coat, and it was such a dear we couldn’t help taking it; but, if there is anything about them you don’t 101 like, we got special permission for you to exchange them to-morrow morning.”
“Like them!”
Julia Cloud settled down in a chair, and looked at herself in helpless joy and admiration. Like them!
“But O children! You oughtn’t to have got such wonderful, expensive things for me. I’m just a plain, simple woman, you know, and it’s not fitting.”
Then there arose a great clamor about her. Why was it not fitting? She who had given her life for others, why should she not have some of the beautiful, comfortable things of earth? It wasn’t sensible for her to talk that way. That was being too humble. And, besides, weren’t these things quite sensible and practical? Weren’t they warm, and wouldn’t they be convenient and comfortable and neat? Well, then, “Good-night,” finished Allison.
And so at last they said “Good-night,” and went to their beds; but long after the children were asleep Julia Cloud lay awake and thought it out. God had been good to her, and was leading her into green pastures beside quiet waters; but there were things He was expecting of her, and was she going to be able to fulfil them? These two young souls were hers to guide. Would she have the grace to guide them into the knowledge of God in Christ? And then she lay praying for strength for this great work until the peace of God’s sleep dropped down upon her.
CHAPTER IX
The next two days were busy ones. There were a great many last little things to be done, and Julia Cloud would have worked herself out, had not the children interfered and carried her off for a ride every little while. The intervening Sabbath was spent at Ellen Robinson’s. The handsome hand-bag and wallet served to keep Ellen from being very disagreeable. In fact, at the last, when she began to realize that Julia was really going away, and would not be down at the old house any more for her to burden and torment, she really revealed a gleam of affection for her, and quite worried poor Julia with thinking that perhaps, after all, she ought not to go away so far from her only sister. When Ellen sat down on the bare stairs in the old hall Monday morning, and gave vent to a real sob at parting, Julia had a swift vision of her little sister years ago sitting on that same stair weeping from a fall, and herself comforting her; and she put her arms around Ellen, and kissed her for the first time in many reticent years.