“Yes; but there winna be much to sell. If we don’t have to buy, it will be a great thing for us. And the shoes we must have, and new harness, and other things. I mustna think of staying this winter, I’m sure, Christie.”
Christie gave a long sigh, as she rose with her full pail.
“I wish I was old enough and able to keep a school, or do something!”
“Do something!” echoed Effie. “I’m sure you do a great deal. Think of the butter! And you’ve made bread all the summer, and swept, and ironed, and washed the dishes.”
“But all that comes to very little,” said Christie, disconsolately.
“Indeed it does—to more than my school-keeping, I dare say. And I’m sure it’s far pleasanter work.”
“Pleasanter!” repeated Christie; and there was such a protesting echo in her voice that Effie could not help laughing; but she said, again—
“Yes, pleasanter. Don’t you think it must be far nicer to be at home with all the rest, than to stay among folk that don’t care about you, and have to bear your trouble alone?”
Christie opened her eyes wide.
“But, Effie, folk do care about you. And what troubles can you have to bear?”