Arminel’s eyes sparkled.
“I daresay we have guessed it,” she exclaimed, jumping up. “Come out at once to see, Chloe.”
But, alas! the heap of brushwood for their winter’s firing, in the corner of the yard, had grown no bigger than the day before. No fresh sounds of cheerful cackling reached them from the hen-house; and Strawberry stood alone in her stall.
The wishes were still unfulfilled.
The sisters returned to the house rather crestfallen.
“What can it be?” said Arminel; and this time Chloe made a suggestion.
“Supposing we wish that the copper coins we have put aside for our Christmas charities should be turned into silver,” she said. “That would be a kind thought for the very poor folk we try to help a little.”
“As you like,” said her sister; “but I doubt its being any use. We are always told that charity which costs us nothing is little worth.”
She was right. When they opened the little box which held the coins she spoke of, there they still were, copper as before, so this time it was no use to look outside for the new cow and hens. And all through the day they went on thinking first of one thing, then of another, without any success, so that by the evening their work had suffered from their neglect, and they went tired and dispirited to bed.
The next day they were obliged to work doubly hard to make up, and one or two new ideas occurred to them which they put to the test, always, alas! with the same result.