“Yes, a cent is too little,” agreed Fanny Townsend earnestly.
“How thoughtless we’ve been,” said Mary, in high excitement. “For my part, I mean to give those Chinese every cent of my pin-money this month. Do you care if I do, mamma?”
“No; you have my full consent. Only do not make up your mind in a hurry,” replied Mrs. Gray; but her manner was cold in comparison with Mrs. Lee’s cordial hand-shake and “God bless you, my precious girl.”
“I’m a real pet with Mrs. Lee,” thought Mary, her heart throbbing high.
Blanche, Fanny, and the two older girls in the class,—Sadie Patten and Lucy Abbott,—were silent. They knew that Mary’s pin-money amounted to four dollars a month, and though they had thought of doing something themselves, this brilliant offer discouraged them at once: they could not make up their minds to anything so munificent.
Going home that noon, Mary “walked on thorns,” though she tried to be humble. By the next day, her feelings toward the Chinese had undergone a slight chill; and when her mother alluded to Captain Emerson—Mrs. Lee’s uncle—and his pictures, Mary did not care to converse on the subject. She even felt a pang of regret at the recollection of her hasty promise. Those girl-babies were far off now; she could not see them in imagination, as at first. Days passed, and the poor things were fading out of mind, buried deep in the lime of the tower.
“My daughter,” said Mrs. Gray, on Saturday, “let me see your portmonnaie.” It contained three dollars and a half now. Mrs. Gray counted the bills. “Have you any especial use for this money, Mary?”
“I don’t know. Would you buy those stereoscopic views of Rome and the Alps that Mr. Snow said I could choose from different sets?”