The house where Mary lived was next door to Mr. Gray’s, so Clara promised to wait while she asked her mother.
“Be as quick as you can, Mary,” she said, “for I left Ellen alone.”
Mary ran into the house, but returned directly, saying, “I cannot come now, Clara, because mother wants me to take care of the baby. But just look at this beautiful present that my aunt sent me last evening,” and she showed Clara a pretty little work-box, and, touching a spring, it commenced playing a lively tune. “How pretty!” exclaimed Clara, “I never saw a musical work-box before;” and she stood still listening to the music until the sounds died away, and the box was as silent as any other work-box.
“Oh, make it play once more, Mary!” said Clara; and Mary again touched the spring, and it played another tune even prettier than the first.
Clara would still have begged for another, for the music and the pretty box had banished every thing else from her mind; but her more thoughtful companion reminded her that Ellen was alone, and that she must go to her mother.
“Oh, dear!” exclaimed Clara, “I forgot all about Ellen; I hope she has not cried for me. Perhaps she opened the door and went up stairs. She goes up alone sometimes. Good-bye, Mary,” and she ran back to the sitting-room.
Ellen had left the seat where Clara had placed her, and was standing by the table, with the little parcel which had been left there in her hand.
As her cousin entered the room, she looked up and said,—
“Ellen cry when Tara gone,—then Ellen find sugar.”
“Sugar,” said Clara, snatching the paper from her hand. “Have you been eating it, Ellen? I wonder what it is.”