“You are a dear! you are a darling! I shall always love you.”
Kitty saw before her Rose Ash, with glowing cheeks and dancing eyes.
“You darling! I never believed it of you, you are so still. I thought you were sly. I am so sorry I misunderstood you; so sorry I did anything or said anything against you. I will never do it again. I will stand your friend; I will fight your battles. And, look here!”
A polished wood workbox was at her feet. She had put it down for the purpose of disengaging her hands to hug Kate.
“Look, Kitty! This is my own workbox. Is it not beautiful? It has a mother-of-pearl escutcheon on it and lock-plate. And it locks—really locks—not make-believe, like some you buy. And, see! pink silk inside. It is for you. I give it to you. It is nearly new. I am not much of a needlewoman, and so have not used it. It is really a hundred times better than that which Noah knocked—I mean, that which the bear danced upon and smashed. And there is a silver thimble in it. I give it you with all my heart—that is to say, with as much heart as I have left to give to anyone.”
Kate stepped back in astonishment. What did this mean?
“O Kitty! you really shall no longer be Kitty Alone; it shall be Kitty and Rose. We shall be regular friends. Only think! I was so jealous of you. I thought that Jan Pooke had taken a fancy to you—and I suppose the silly noodle had done so for a bit, but you know he properly belongs to me. We are to make a pair—everyone says so, and his father and sister Sue wish it; and I’m sure, I’m sure, so do I. But men are cruel giddy, they turn and turn like weathercocks; and just for a while Jan fancied you. But you put him off bravely, you did.”
“What have I done to you?” asked Kate.
“My dear, I heard it all. I saw you and Jan going to the orchard, and I was so jealous that I hid myself in the linhay. I got over the hedge and tore my frock in a bramble, but I did not heed it; I slipped in where I could peep and see, and put out my ears and listen. I know everything. I heard how you spoke up for me, and quite right and reasonable too; and how you refused him, and very sensible you was. Just think what a thing it would ha’ been, Kitty, if he’d gone right off his head and married you, and then come to his senses and found he had got the wrong one, and it was me all along he should have had. You would never have known happiness after. You never would have enjoyed peace of conscience again. But you were a sensible child, and did what you ought to ha’ done, and nobody can’t do more than that; nor promise and vow to do more than what is in the catechism. So, now, I’m all for you, and there is my workbox I give you in place of that the bear kicked to pieces. I don’t mind telling you now, Kate, that Noah did it. I put him up to it; I told him he was to do it. He didn’t like it, but I forced him to it—I mean to knock the workbox from under your arm. He’s a good chap is Noah, and now that it is all put right between Jan and me”—
“Is it? Have you spoken with him?”