“Go right straight back,” said Mother Brimmer, clapping the potatoes into the kettle, “and pick up your work—dear me! can’t you hear just as well when your fingers are busy, pray tell?”
Thus reproved, they hurried back again. “Now tell, do, Mamsie,” they begged, once more in their places.
“Well,” said Mrs. Brimmer slowly, “it’s just this; Roly Poly must hang up her stocking the same as usual, of course.”
“But do let it be a better one this year,” cried Corny, “old turnip dolls, and such make-believe stuff as it was last Christmas!” he added contemptuously.
“Roly Poly had a beautiful time,” said Rosy, “she’s been talking of it most every day since. Don’t you remember what fun it was seeing her pull out the things?”
“And the doll, I’m sure, was a wonderful affair,” said Mother Brimmer, “and lasted much better than a store one would have done.”
“And when it wrinkled it looked just like an old woman,” said Corny, with a shout at the remembrance; “and how funny it was to hear Roly Poly call it her baby.”
“And wasn’t the molasses candy with the butternuts meats good,” observed Rosalie reflectively, “and the furniture you and Jack made for the dolly—oh! I think that was so pretty.”
“And the mittens Mamsie knit her; I forgot them,” said Corny. “Yes; it was pretty good, after all. But we’re richer now, and we ought to give her a better stocking this Christmas,” he added decidedly, with quite an air.
“I don’t know about being richer,” said Mother Brimmer cautiously, and giving a final stir to the several ingredients in the kettle, she put on the cover, took down her pans and set about moulding her bread; “our expenses increase every year as you children grow older; and it isn’t right to plan taking anything that isn’t actually necessary, out of the nest-egg. Roly Poly will need every bit we can give her toward her education by and by.”