A day or two before their departure, Lisa came to him with tears in her eyes, and a little package in her hand.
"Open it, dear; it is for you."
It was a tiny leather purse, with four dollars in it.
"Lisa, you must not give me all this."
"Yes, it is yours—your own earnings. I sold your little picture, and bought this purse with part of the money, so that you might have something to spend just as you pleased.".
"Oh, Lisa!" was all Phil could say, for though grateful, he was yet disappointed that Lisa had not kept his picture.
"Now, dear," she said, "you can buy some little trifle for Joe, and any one else you want to make a present to."
"Thank you, Lisa; yes, I will. It is a very nice purse," he replied; but as soon as he could find Miss Schuyler, he unburdened his heart. "After all the pains I took with that little picture, Aunt Rachel, to think of Lisa's selling it! Oh, how could she?"
"Hush, dear Phil; Lisa is the most unselfish creature in the world. Has she not given you up to me? And for the pleasure she supposed it would give you to have money of your own earning, she was willing to part with even a thing so precious as a picture painted by you for her. Do not question her motive for a moment. Take the money, and buy her something useful. Come, we will go get a pretty work-basket; she will find it even more to her taste than a picture."
So they went out and bought a light, nicely shaped basket, with little pockets all around it, and Aunt Rachel made it complete with a silver thimble, a strawberry emery cushion, a morocco needle-book, and an ample supply of silk, thread, needles, pins, and buttons.