The living-room was littered with the ravishing contents of the carefully packed bundles. The ashes had been swept up by the willing hand of Lightning, while Molly’s deft, excited fingers dealt with her treasure. Gone for the while was all thought of the breakfast that should have been in preparation. Gone was every other consideration, swept out of mind by that supreme moment of gladness.
What else could matter? Two great bundles in their waterproof wrappings, enclosed in stout sacks. The contents? Ah, those wonderful contents. The fairy godmother had done her work with due regard for the conventions of magic. She had waved her wand, and transported her burdens to the sheltering storm doorway of Molly’s home in the night. That was understood. It was clear enough to the simple minds of these two children, the one so far travelled on the journey of life, and the other standing at the very threshold of the age of joy.
The messenger, whoever he was, had travelled with a pack horse. That was clear enough. And his instructions must have been very, very definite, and carefully considered. Clearly he had been admitted to the secret of it all. He must arrive in the night, when the world was wrapped in slumber, with only the twinkling eyes of the stars to see, and the full moon smiling down her beneficence. He must steal upon the silent house and deposit his friendly burden all unseen. Then in the morning, then—then—— In her heart Molly felt that only Blanche could have planned so heavenly a surprise.
It seemed well-nigh impossible that the sacks could have contained all that wealth of delight. The first of the two to be opened was given up to the afterthoughts of a generous mind. It was a delicious collection of creature comforts that had nothing to do with apparel. It was food delicacies such as no ordinary store in Hartspool could have provided. And here again was shown the consummate purpose of the sender. The whole thing was designed without a hint of charity. It was a present of only those things which no money could have provided out of the stock of a prairie store. There were candies that must have come from some big city. There were bottled fruits of a quality Molly had never seen. There were foreign preserves in wide variety. There were sauces and flavourings for preparing food. Even Lightning’s appetite was whetted, and he forgot the occasion of it all. No, there was no charity in it; only a supreme kindliness.
Then the second bundle, softer and infinitely lighter than the first.
The girl’s cheeks reflected an almost painful excitement as her fingers fumbled with the fastenings. When the last of the covers was torn aside Molly drew such a breath that Lightning forgot the amazing display of luxurious garments that lay revealed. He watched only the hungry eyes devouring greedily all the beauty of tone and texture which the girl’s fingers were moving amidst. The whole thing was beyond him.
Molly looked to be in a sort of trance. The beautiful fur wrap she almost ignored. It was fur, something she understood, something, in however inferior a quality, that had long since entered her life. Beneath it, enfolded in tissue paper, lay the party frock. It was gauzy and diaphanous, and of such a colour and material that was quite beyond her wildest dreams. Molly raised it gently, tenderly. It was so slight, and so—so delicate. It seemed to her her hands, those hands that were used only to her work, must inevitably crush and completely ruin it.
But with its removal a quick intense exclamation broke from the girl. Beneath it lay something that held her completely spellbound. It was several layers of garments of the most exquisite silk and crêpe-de-chine. They were those delicious things which are the dream of any and every woman’s life, whatever her station. Something so irresistible that, once possessed, life becomes impossible without. And the warm fingers, accustomed only to the homeliest materials, moved amongst them, fondling them, and telling the old man looking on an emotion which was utterly outside his crude understanding.
There was everything there, everything even to the shoes and those necessities of the girl’s dark hair which the sender had deemed essential. Blanche’s promise had been fulfilled, her pledge had been redeemed with a prodigal generosity that almost dazed the simple farm girl.