What a sad disaster! Their Aunt kindly said, she would wait a little; but the poor girls were in sad distress. They went slowly and sorrowfully up stairs, to mend their tattered dresses. "To have no other frocks clean, this day of all the year," cried Ethel sullenly.—"But, sister, see how easily the rents can be mended," said Patty, setting herself to work.—"A pretty business, to be sure, after stitching all the morning; just when all the nasty work was done, to have more to do," said Ethel.—"Oh! so very little! Look, Ethel, it is a mere trifle," exclaimed Patty.—"Yours may be; but mine—" said Ethel. "Yours is less than mine; only measure, sister."
"I shall do no such thing."—"Then stitch away, as I am stitching," cried Patty, smiling, and working with all her might. Ethel slowly stretched out the rent. "It is nonsense to begin," said she; "this horrid hole could never be finished."—"Certainly not, if never begun, sister."—"Do not be pert, Patty. I do not believe even your skilful ladyship will be ready; for I hear some one coming up stairs. I dare say Aunt is sending for us."—"I shall stitch on to the very last moment," said Patty; "and though moments do make themselves wings, and fly away, just when we want them most to stay, mine shall carry some stitches with them, I am determined;" and she worked perseveringly.
The step passed the door. "A reprieve," cried Patty. Ethel began looking for needle, thread and thimble; then listened to hear if any one was coming to them—then looked out of the window, to see if her Aunt's carriage were still there—then thought it was too late to begin—and then began. Patty's busy, unstopping fingers had finished her task. "And now, Ethel, I am ready to help you."—"Two cannot work at once."—"Then let me work." Patty's kindness could not avail. Mamma came up, and sent down the one who was ready. Ethel blamed her fortune. Silly child! She had better have blamed herself!
THE LITTLE BEGGAR.
"Mamma, do pray be so very good as to give me a pair of fine, open-worked, silk stockings."—"A modest request, Julia, for a little girl not higher than the table. And might I presume to ask for what use you want these showy articles?"—"Use! For wearing, to be sure, Mamma."—"Wearing! For you, Julia! For such a minikin as you!"—"All my playfellows have them, Mamma."—"A notable reason, certainly, why you should have them."—"Yes! Miss Montague, Lady Jane Hill, and Miss Carter."—"All the children of richer parents than yours."—"That makes no difference."—"Your pardon, little girl; that makes all the difference."—"How, Mamma!"—"Because, my love, all things should be done in character. If you wear fine stockings, you must have fine shoes; and then a carriage is indispensable."—"Now, Mamma, you are laughing at me. I, who am so stout, and can walk so well."—"In thin stockings and thin shoes, Julia?"—Julia pondered—her mother continued: "With these smart shoes and stockings, a smart frock is necessary, and a sash, and a rich lace, and ear-rings, and a fan, and——"—"Oh! stop, stop, dear Mamma!" exclaimed Julia, laughing, "I see, I understand. What a very silly child I am!"—"No, my dear Julia, you are not silly, you only was so. Young creatures, like you, must often form foolish wishes, and make absurd requests; however, you shew your sense, in being convinced of your error."—"Thank you, Mamma, for excusing me." Julia said this very soberly, and seemed thinking. "And what are you so grave about?" asked her mother.—"Why, I had another begging favour—but now—"—"Speak fearlessly, my child."—"I did so want a little money for poor old sick Kitty!"—"Take it, my dear girl. It is to give you and myself the means of bestowing money in charity, that I am loth to spend it in dress."—"Oh! Mamma, Mamma, how I thank you! Oh! this is better than a thousand stockings! Lucky beggar that I am!"
THE YOUNG FRIENDS.
Clare and Constance were born in the same village, and brought up together. Their parents were near neighbours, and they went to the same school. In summer, they sat beneath the same tree, conning their lessons; and in winter, they sat on the same bench, working or knitting. Constance preferred using Clare's scissors, and Clare had a secret pleasure in taking thread from the cotton-box of Constance.
