Effie laughed softly; but she looked grave immediately.
“Well, I havena so many as I might have, I suppose.”
“I’m sure if I were you I should be perfectly happy,” said Christie.
“That’s only one of the mistakes you have fallen into,” said Effie, gravely. “Do you remember the story of the burdens, and how every one was willing to take up his own at last?”
Nothing in the world would have convinced Christie that her sister’s lot was not much pleasanter than her own; and she said to herself, how gladly she would change burdens with her! but aloud she only asked—
“Has anything new happened? What’s troubling you, Effie?”
“Oh, nothing has happened,” said Effie, cheerfully. “I’m getting on well. The worst of my troubles are those I find at home—Aunt Elsie’s rheumatism, and your pale, tired face, and the wearing out of the children’s clothes. And you have all these too: so I dare say my burden is the lightest, after all. Now let me see your butter.”
It was well worth seeing. There was one tub made when the weather had been warm, and, for that reason, was pronounced by Christie not quite so good. Then there was a large one, with over a hundred and twenty pounds in it—so hard, and yellow, and fragrant! Christie was not a little proud of it; and Effie praised it to her heart’s content. There was no better butter in all Glengarry, she was sure.
“And a hundred and twenty pounds of it! It’s worth twenty-five cents a pound, at least. Think of that, Christie!—thirty dollars in all! That is something of your doing, I should think.”
“Partly,” said Christie. “I only helped.” But she was very much pleased. “If we could only sell it, it would get us shoes, and lots of things.”