“There are certainly a great many who wouldn’t,” said William, “and I own that I am more proud of her than of my very dressy, fashionable cousins next door.”
“Or of the one sitting here, I presume,” laughed Dorothy. “I don’t blame you, Will; but perhaps I might try going into business too if your mother did not insist that she needs me here.”
“Of course she does, and so do we,” said her uncle. “There must be somebody to sew on buttons and strings and attend to various other small matters affecting our comfort.”
“And certainly Dorothy deserves the credit of attending faithfully to those small but necessary matters,” said George.
“That’s true,” said his brother, “and of making quantities of garments for other people besides. She’s a regular Dorcas, as I’ve heard mother say more than once.”
“Be careful, young men, or you’ll have me so puffed up there’ll be no living in the same house with me,” returned Dorothy with merry look and tone, “and then who’ll sew on your buttons and strings?”
“We’ll carry them to mother,” replied William with gravity. “She can’t go round the house and hunt things up, but we will do that part, and she’ll be both able and willing to tack the things on for us.”
“And you, of course, are not likely to tire of your part of the work,” returned Dorothy, “nor ever to forget to hunt up the garments and carry them to aunt in good season to have them got ready for wear when wanted. I should really like to see that poor girl—Ethel,” she continued presently. “I wonder if she would care to see me.”
“I am going round there this evening—in about an hour from now,” said her uncle. “Would you like to go with me?”
“Yes, sir; yes, indeed, if I may.”