“And you did long for one, didn’t you, poor little kitty mouse?”
“No, I didn’t, because I didn’t see how it was possible I could ever have one. But, Lily, you wont be ready for breakfast.”
That was a very informal meal in the Ashley house, for the family never waited for the mistress, who was apt to breakfast in her own room, and Mr. Ashley was such a restless, active person that he usually dispatched his breakfast before any one else began and trotted off to call on his two sets of grandchildren. This morning the three girls had the table all to themselves, and Marion was lost in wonder at Lily, who did not seem in the least awed by the solemn butler, who seemed to her to be the most scornful and disapproving looking gentleman she had ever seen; and when Katie, with the courage of a lion-tamer, calmly sent him down-stairs because they wanted to discuss a private matter she almost looked for an earthquake to happen next.
The private matter was a present Mrs. Ashley wished to make to Mrs. Abbott and was going to leave to the three girls to select and present as an offering from themselves. The discussion seemed interminable, and was still in full tide when Mr. Ashley came in, rubbing his hands and crying “Merry Christmas!” to them.
“Here are sweets to the sweet,” he continued, handing them each a two-pound box of Huyler’s very best, “and here are charms to the charmers and gloves to the gloveless;” and with chuckles of delight he arranged the packages in front of the girls, walking around the table and rubbing his hands gleefully while they unwrapped and explored. Every thing was alike in each instance. Two pairs of gloves apiece—extra length, he explained, solemnly, because the tops could be used to resole the bottoms. The “charms” were lovely silver chatelaines, with smelling-bottle, bon-bon box, and other hanging appurtenances; and the girls uttered their approbation in little screams of delight, in the midst of which Mr. Ashley put his hands over his ears and ran out of the room.
“And the best of papa’s Christmas morning gifts is that he don’t mind your giving them away to somebody else if you want. He wouldn’t forgive any one who parted with Christmas-tree things, but these have no sentiment, he says.”
“There’ll be no danger of my parting with these glorious gloves,” said Lily. “I never had any a mile long before. And do see Marion. She’s regarding hers with such reverence that I expect to see her swing incense in front of them in a minute. I believe she likes them better than her lovely chatelaine.”
“O, no, but I can wear the gloves.”
“Well, I suppose papa thought you could; but can’t you wear the chatelaine too?”
“It seems too fine for me, with the kind of clothes I wear.”