"Please, Cousin Deborah, I wish you would tell me some stories about those times," Lucy ventured to say. "It is so much nicer than reading them out of the history books."
"Well," said Cousin Deborah, smiling, "you certainly pay me a high compliment."
"It was not a compliment," said Lucy. "It was true."
"Compliments may be true as well as false, Lucy. But I will make a bargain with you. I will tell you stories for half an hour after dinner, provided you will work at the same time."
"Well," said Lucy, with great satisfaction. "What shall I do?"
"Suppose you begin to knit a pair of nice warm woollen stockings for poor Dame Higgins at the almshouse, whose hands are crippled by the rheumatism. You can easily have them ready against winter. I have plenty of good strong worsted."
"I shall like that," said Lucy. "It is so much nicer to think that I am working for people than just to work, work, stitch, stitch, without ever knowing what one is working for."
"I agree with you, Lucy. But you must be faithful in fulfilling your part of the bargain, or I shall consider myself released from mine."
The stocking was soon set up, and Lucy worked for an hour without once looking at the clock to see what time it was, while Cousin Deborah told her tales of the great civil war, which she had heard from her father and mother.
"Now you may go and get ready for your ride," said Cousin Deborah. "You will find the bundle of baby-linen upon my table, and cook Will give you some biscuit to carry to the poor woman. After you have been at the lodge, you may ride down to the shop and buy me a paper of needles, and two sticks of bobbin like the bit which is tied round the bundle. Take that for a sample; and here is sixpence, which you may spend for yourself, if you please. I dare say you and Anne will be glad of a cake apiece at the end of your journey."