me," said Becky, "how queerly things do act to-night!" She thought a moment then said soberly, "I wish I liked my work better. Washing dishes, picking chips and hemming towels is such tiresome work, I don’t see how I can go on doing it for six more years."
"Just what I used to feel," said the clock. "I couldn’t bear to think that I had got to stand here and do nothing but tick year after year. I flatly said I wouldn’t, and I stopped a dozen times a day. Bless me, what a fuss I made until I was put in this corner to stand idle for several months. At first I rejoiced, then I got tired of doing nothing and began to reflect that as I was born a clock, it would be wiser to do my duty and get some satisfaction out of it if I could."
"And so you went to going again? Please teach me to be faithful and to love my duty," cried Becky.
"I will;" and the old clock grandly struck the half hour, with a smile on its round face, as it steadily ticked on.
Here the fire blazed up and the tea-kettle hanging on the crane began to sing.
"How cheerful that is!" said Becky, as the whole kitchen brightened with the ruddy glow. "If I could have a third wish, I’d wish to be as cheerful as the fire."
"Have your wish if you choose, but you must work for it, as I do," cried the fire, as its flames embraced the old kettle till it gurgled with pleasure.
Becky thought she heard a queer voice humming these words
"I’m an old black kettle,
With a very crooked nose.
But I can’t help being gay
When the jolly fire glows."
"I shouldn’t wonder a mite if that child had been up to mischief to-night, rummaged all over the house, eaten herself sick, or stolen something and run away with it," fretted Aunt Sally, as the family went jingling home in the big sleigh about one o’clock from the Christmas party.
"Tut, tut, Aunty, I wouldn’t think evil of the poor little thing. If I’d had my way she would have gone with us and had a good time. She doesn’t look as if she had seen many, and I have a notion it is what she needs," said the farmer kindly.
"The thought of her alone at home has worried me all the evening, but she didn’t seem to mind, and I haven’t had time to get a respectable dress ready for her to wear, so I let it go," added the farmer’s wife, as she cuddled little Jane under the cloaks and shawls, with a regretful memory of Becky knocking at her heart.
"I’ve got some pop corn and a bouncing big apple for her," said Billy, the red-faced lad perched up by his father playing drive.
"And I’ll give her one of my dolls. She said she never had one, wasn’t that dreadful?" put in little Jane, popping out her head like a bird from its nest.
"Better see what she has been doing first, advised Aunt Sally. "If she hasn’t done any mischief and has remembered to have the kettle boiling so I can have a cup of hot tea after my ride, and if she has kept the fire up and warmed my slippers, I don’t know but I’ll give her the red mittens I knit."
They found poor Becky lying on the bare floor, her head pillowed on the stool, and old Tabby in her arms, with a corner of the blue pinafore spread over her. The fire was burning splendidly, the kettle simmering, and in a row upon the hearth stood, not only Aunt Sally’s old slippers, but those of master and mistress also, and over a chair hung two little nightgowns warming for the children.
‘Well now, who could have been more thoughtful than that!" said Aunt Sally. "Becky shall have those mittens, and I’ll knit her two pairs of stockings, that I will."
So Aunt Sally laid the gay mittens close to the little rough hand that had worked so busily all day. Billy set his big red apple and bag of pop corn just where she would see them when she woke. Jane laid the doll in Becky’s arms, and Tabby smelt of it approvingly, to the children’s delight. The farmer had no present ready, but he stroked the little cropped head with a fatherly touch that made Becky smile in her sleep, as he said within himself, "I will do by this forlorn child as I would wish any one to do by my Janey if she were left alone." But the mother gave the best gift of all, for she stooped down and kissed Becky as only mothers can kiss. The good woman’s heart reproached her for neglect of the child who had no mother.
That unusual touch wakened Becky at once, and looking about her with astonished eyes, she saw such a wonderful change in all the faces, that she clapped her hands and cried with a happy laugh, "My dream’s come true! Oh, my dream’s come true !"
Kitty's Class Day
"A stitch in time saves nine."
"O Pris, Pris, I'm really going! Here's the invitation--rough paper--Chapel--spreads--Lyceum Hall--everything splendid; and Jack to take care of me!"
As Kitty burst into the room and performed a rapturous _pas seul_, waving the cards over her head, sister Priscilla looked up from her work with a smile of satisfaction on her quiet face.
"Who invites you, dear?"
"Why, Jack, of course,--dear old cousin Jack. Nobody else ever thinks of me, or cares whether I have a bit of pleasure now and then. Isn't he kind? Mayn't I go? and, O Pris, what _shall_ I wear?"
Kitty paused suddenly, as if the last all-important question had a solemnizing effect upon both mind and body.
"Why, your white muslin, silk sacque, and new hat, of course," began Pris with an air of surprise. But Kitty broke in impetuously,--
"I'll never wear that old muslin again; it's full of darns, up to my knees, and all out of fashion. So is my sacque; and as for my hat, though it does well enough here, it would be absurd for Class Day."
"You don't expect an entirely new suit for this occasion,--do you?" asked Pris, anxiously.
"Yes, I do, and I'll tell you how I mean to get it. I've planned everything; for, though I hardly dreamed of going, I amused myself by thinking how I could manage if I _did_ get invited."
"Let us hear." And Pris took up her work with an air of resignation.
"First, my dress," began Kitty, perching herself on the arm of the sofa, and entering into the subject with enthusiasm. "I've got the ten dollars grandpa sent me, and with eight of it I'm going to buy Lizzie King's organdie muslin. She got it in Paris; but her aunt providentially--no, unfortunately--died; so she can't wear it, and wants to get rid of it. She is bigger than I am, you know; so there is enough for a little mantle or sacque, for it isn't made up. The skirt is cut off and gored, with a splendid train--"
"My dear, you don't mean you are going to wear one of those absurd, new-fashioned dresses?" exclaimed Pris, lifting hands and eyes.
"I do! Nothing would induce me to go to Class Day without a train. It's been the desire of my heart to have one, and now I _will_, if I never have another gown to my back!" returned Kitty, with immense decision.
Pris shook her head, and said, "Go on!" as if prepared for any extravagance after that.
"We can make
