“It’s too bad Mary can’t be at home all the time,” said Syl.
“Yes; but then to have her to-day is such a blessing. If you knew how we had enjoyed our day together, and our feast together, I know you would feel paid for any inconvenience it cost you.”
Just then an express wagon rumbled up to the door and the bell rang loudly. Mary opened it at once, for their room was on the ground floor.
“A sewing-machine for Miss Gordon,” said a somewhat gruff voice.
“No, that cannot be. There is some mistake,” said Mary’s gentle tones. And then Syl sprang forward, in a flutter of excitement, which would have been pretty to see had there been anybody there to notice it.
“I’m sure it’s all right. Bring it in, please; and Mary, you will tell them where to put it, in the best light.”
And in five minutes or less it was all in its place, and Mary was looking, with eyes full of wonder, and something else beside wonder, at Syl Graham.
“It’s nothing,” said Syl hurriedly; “it’s only my New Year’s present to you, a little in advance of time.”
She had thought she should enjoy Mary’s surprise; but this was something she had not looked for,—this utter breaking down, these great wild sobs, as if the girl’s heart would break. And when she could speak at length, she cried with a sort of passion,—