They had spent the entire morning in the woods hunting for treasures, she and her particular friend, Helen Beardsley. Helen attended another Sunday-school, so they had carefully divided the flowers, for they were to be used in decorating the church for the Easter service.
“You will smell all the sweetness out of those things, child,” said Miss Agatha Foster, looking up from the bit of satin she was carefully embroidering. Miss Agatha was Celia’s oldest sister.
HESTER THOUGHT ABOUT IT.
“O, no, I won’t!” said Celia, laughing; “they have all the sweetness of the woods in them. You can’t think how the woods smelled this morning! It seemed just like heaven.”
Agatha and the middle sister, Lorene, looked at each other and laughed.
“What an idea!” said Lorene; “it is the first time I ever heard the woods compared to heaven.”
Mrs. Foster came into the room at that moment, and stopped by the table near the door to arrange the books; there was a tired, somewhat troubled look on her face. “Poor Hester has had to be disappointed again about going home,” she said.
“Why, mother,” said Agatha, “that is really too bad. It is the third Saturday she has missed, and their baby is sick, you know.”
“I know it,” said Mrs. Foster, looking more troubled still; “but what can I do? There will be company to tea, and cook cannot leave the kitchen to answer the bell; she can not even attend to the downstairs bell; it rings every few minutes on Saturdays; besides, there is extra work for her to do, and somebody must set the table for her. I don’t suppose either of you could give her a lift, could you, and let Hester go?”