And sweet Mary grew red too, when I said that. “I’m very glad you’re glad,” she said, shyly. “Of course I would like to be like you.”
And I think that afternoon sealed our friendship. How happy we were! We explored all the garden together, making plans for all sorts of nice things, out-of-door teas, games of hide-and-seek, gardening and flower-shows (I will tell you about our flower-shows some other time—they were such fun), when the summer came; then we went into the house and explored it too, spending most of our time in the girls’ room, the room with the rose paper, where the two little white beds were standing side by side and everything as neat as could be, though to my eyes, accustomed to much more luxury, it looked rather bare. But Evey was full of her plans for dressing up the toilet-table and adorning the windows with blinds and ribbons to match.
“I’ve been waiting for you to come to talk about it with us,” she said. “Connie has such good taste,” she went on to Mary; “you know she chose this paper.”
And though I had always fancied and had even, I fear, been rather proud of saying that I hated needlework, I found myself undertaking a share in it all, quite cheerfully.
“You’ll join our poor work, won’t you, Connie?” said Evey; “unless, of course, you’ve got a club of your own already.”
And when I stared, she went on to explain that, busy as they were, busier still as their mother was, they all gave a certain amount of time regularly every week to sewing for the poor.
“You wouldn’t believe how much one can do if one keeps to it,” said Evey. “And you know things that are neatly made are so much more good to poor people than what one can buy. Once we had quite a proper club, and twice a year we had a shop—it was such fun. Mother says it is best to let them buy the things when they can, though we always gave away some. I wonder if we can have a club here.”
“There is a sort of one I think,” I said. “Anna Gale and her aunt manage it. But I’m sure it is stupidly done. They are so dull and stupid about everything.”
Evey glanced up quickly.
“Mother is so clever about things like that,” she said. “Perhaps something might be done about it. I daresay she would talk about it to Miss Gale. There are a good many new ideas about such things now, and perhaps—perhaps it is a little old-fashioned here, and mother might improve it. I think Anna Gale must be a very good girl.”