"Oh, they do; they are charming. But these are that lovely, peculiar shade which one so rarely finds in kid—just the tint of your long plume. Oh, I do think they are too lovely for anything!"
"They are expensive."
"Oh, I don't think so. Only two and a quarter. You can't get really good kid for less than that, and poor gloves are not worth buying. Besides, they have the Foster fastenings. Now I really dote on Foster fastenings."
Elsie was being persuaded. They did look as though they would fit her shapely hand so well, and they really were a remarkable match. What if she had just bought a pair? Gloves would keep and would be always needed. Mamma approved of good gloves, and papa had told her to spend the gold pieces just as she pleased.
"Well," she said, a slight hesitation still in her voice, "I think I'll—" and she glanced down at her hands.
"Next time any temptation of this sort approaches you, just look at your hand." It was to Elsie as though the words were written on the back of her glove, so distinctly did she seem to see them. A temptation of what sort? Was this box of gloves in the list? "Can you let it take up things, which, to say the least, are not for Jesus?" Were the gloves for Him? The question startled her, seemed a little irreverent, yet she was a clear-brained girl and knew what the query meant.
Was she buying them because she felt that she needed them to complete a neat and tasteful toilet? If—it was a sufficiently startling thought to make the color run into her cheeks, yet she thought it—if the Lord Jesus Christ stood there in the flesh, occupying the space at her side now filled by Cousin Ben, would she spend two dollars and a quarter for an unneeded pair of gloves? Should the hand belonging to Him do aught that His glance would not approve?
She was ready to finish her sentence. "I think I will not take them, Carrie. I have gloves enough for the present, and the styles may change, before I need them."
"What nonsense! These are in the very latest shade. I never saw any quite like them before. I wish they would match anything of mine and would buy them in a moment, although Auntie gave me a full box of gloves at Christmas. How many pairs have you, Elsie?"
This question amused Ben wonderfully. "An official report, if you please," he said, his eyes twinkling with laughter. "How many handkerchiefs have you, and how many ribbons and how many ruffles? Do you young ladies keep an inventory for each other's special benefit?"