|
Main
- books.jibble.org
My Books
- IRC Hacks
Misc. Articles
- Meaning of Jibble
- M4 Su Doku
- Computer Scrapbooking
- Setting up Java
- Bootable Java
- Cookies in Java
- Dynamic Graphs
- Social Shakespeare
External Links
- Paul Mutton
- Jibble Photo Gallery
- Jibble Forums
- Google Landmarks
- Jibble Shop
- Free Books
- Intershot Ltd
|
books.jibble.org
Previous Page
| Next Page
Page 14
"It's horrid to be poor," she said again, clapping the lid on the
kettle. "I hate to live in a little crowded-up house, and spoil my hands
with dust and dish-water, and do the same things year in and year out."
Joyce stopped suddenly, wishing that she could unsay that last speech,
for the little mother had come into the kitchen in time to hear it.
There was a pained expression on her face.
"I am afraid my bird of passage will never be satisfied with the little
home nest again," she said, sadly.
"Oh, mother, I didn't mean it as bad as it sounds; truly, I didn't,"
cried Joyce. "You know that usually I am as contented as a cricket; but
I don't know what is the matter with me to-day. It must be the weather."
Just then there was a stamping on the porch outside, and the violent
flapping of an umbrella to rid it of the raindrops clinging to it.
"Jack!" shouted Mary, rushing to the door, with Holland and the baby
tagging at her heels. "A letter for Joyce!" they called in chorus the
next instant, all straggling back after the oldest brother as he bore it
triumphantly into the kitchen.
"From Lloydsboro Valley," announced Joyce, and Mrs. Ware's face lighted
up with one of her rare smiles.
"Ah, I knew it was coming," she said, "and I am sure it will prove an
antidote for your blues. I had a letter from the same place last week,
and I've been in the secret ever since."
"What secret?" demanded Mary, her eyes round with curiosity, and Jack
echoed the question.
"That Joyce was to be invited to a house party in June, back in 'My old
Kentucky home.' The invitation is from one of my old school friends.
There were three of us," she went on, in answer to the look of eager
interest in Mary's eyes. "Three girls who grew up together: Joyce Allen
(your sister is named for her), Elizabeth Lloyd, and myself. And now our
little daughters are to meet in the same dear old valley where we played
together and grew up together and learned to love each other like
sisters. I hope they will become as dear friends as we were."
Joyce looked up from her letter, her face aglow with joyful surprise.
"Oh, mother!" she cried, "do you really mean it? Is it possible that I
am to go? How can you afford it?"
Mrs. Ware motioned toward the envelope lying at Joyce's feet.
"Look again," she said, "and you will find that Mr. Sherman has sent a
pass. As for the clothes, well, your 'witch with a wand' has come to the
rescue again."
"Cousin Kate?" gasped Joyce.
Mrs. Ware nodded. "What would you think if I were to tell you that there
has been a box hidden away in my closet for nearly a week, waiting for
this letter, which I knew was on its way, and inside are the very
things you need to complete your summer outfit? There is a new hat, for
one thing, and material for several very pretty dresses."
Mary danced up and down, her hair ribbons bobbing over her shoulders,
and her face ashine, as she cried, "Oh, sister, isn't it lovely? I'm so
glad, I'm so glad, I'm so glad!"
But Joyce stood with her face suddenly grown serious and her lips
trembling. Her little sister's unselfish delight made her conscience
hurt. Putting her arms around her mother's neck, she hid her face
against her shoulder. "Oh, mother," she sobbed, "I don't deserve it all!
Here I've been so fretful and discontented all day, thinking there'd
never be any good times any more, and that there was nothing but work
ahead of me, and all the time this beautiful surprise was on its way. I
don't deserve for it to be mine. It ought to be Mary's. She never frets
over things."
Mrs. Ware looked down into Mary's face, still a-smile with the thought
of her sister's pleasure, and said: "Mary is to have a little slice of
this, too. I wonder what she will say when she sees a certain pink
parasol that I saw in that box, and a white sash with pink rosebuds on
it, and slippers that I'm sure wouldn't fit anything else in the house
but her own wigglesome little feet."
Previous Page
| Next Page
|
|