"No wonder, since he never means to pay them," thought Ethel.
She had always been a little in the habit of looking down upon her cousin in her secret soul, and the feeling had grown a good many degrees stronger before they parted. She walked home, feeling considerably uplifted in her own esteem, as though it were a great merit in herself that her father was an honest man, while, at the same time, she could not help wishing that honesty had been made rather more compatible with convenience.
As Ethel turned towards home, she ran against a girl of her own age, who was coming round the corner, walking very fast. "Why, Bessy, what makes you in such a hurry?" she exclaimed, recognizing a favorite schoolmate. "You are fairly out of breath."
"O Ethel, I beg your pardon," replied Bessy, "but I was in such a hurry to get home, because Rose is waiting for me. Do come in for a minute, and see what we are doing. It is such pretty work!"
Ethel had not quite got over the habit of feeling for her little watch, and she now put her hand to the place where she had worn it, to see if she had any time to spare. She withdrew it with a sigh, remembering that the watch was hers no longer, and glancing at the church clock not far off, saw that she had nearly an hour to spare.
"Have you been buying things for Christmas, Bessy?" she asked, as she quickened her step to keep pace with those of her companion.
"Yes, that is, not exactly, but things to get things with. I will show you."
Accordingly, on arriving at the house of Mr. Beckford, she ushered Ethel into the back parlor, where at a table covered with pictures and painting materials, sat Rosa Beckford, busily engaged in coloring prints in water-colors.
"How quick you have been!" she said to her sister, after she had kissed Ethel.
"Yes, I almost ran. Is it not pretty work, Ethel?"