CHAPTER XIV.

"Oh, Aunt Dolly!" said Rose, coming in with her face all a-glow, "will

you please tell me is this my mother's thimble? I found it in the

drawer, and _may_ I have it?" she asked, pressing it to her lips.

"It don't take me long to answer questions," said Dolly; "it _is_ your

mother's, and you may _not_ have it. You had no business to go ferreting

round among my things."

"You told me to go to the drawer, and get the thread," answered Rose,

"and it lay right there, and I could not help seeing it. Won't you

please let me have it? I shall be _so_ happy if you will."

Poor child! This was the worst argument she could have used.

"I will do any thing, Aunt Dolly, if you will," said she, poising the

coveted treasure on her tiny finger. "I'll--I'll--"

"Won't you ever say another word to me again about going to school, as

long as you live?"

Rose hesitated, and looked at the thimble. "I don't like to promise

that, Aunt Dolly."

"Then I don't like to give you the thimble," answered Dolly, snatching

it from Rose's finger, and stuffing it into her own pocket. "Now go back

to your work, miss."

"I would have given it to her, had I been you," said the good-natured

Daffy (adding the only argument which she knew would tell on Dolly); "I

really believe the child would do twice the work with that thimble on

her finger."

"I didn't think of that," replied Dolly, "perhaps she would--Rose?"

Rose came back with traces of tears upon her face.

"Will you be a very, very good girl, and do every thing I tell you,

always?"

Rose could not answer for sobbing.

"Give it to her," whispered the tortured Daffy, "you'll see how it will

work."

"Well, there's the thimble," said Dolly, throwing it at her.

"Oh, Aunt Dolly," said Rose, "I thank you. I'll try; indeed I'll try."

"Well, go along, and see that you keep your word. I haven't much faith

in it, though."

"I declare," said Dolly, leaning back in her chair, "our Maria was the

beater for one thing; every body who ever saw her used to carry on about

her just like that child; even the cats and dogs liked a kick from her,

better than a petting from any body else, and as to her husband, he

thought the model was broke (as that image man said) after his wife was

made. I don't suppose fire could burn out the love of that young one for

her mother, for all she was so little when Maria died. I am sure I have

done my best, but the fact was, Maria had a way with her."

Ah, selfish Dolly! Thy sister had a heart. It shone in her eyes,

lingered in her smile, sweetened her voice. _Love_ was the open sesame

by which she unlocked all hearts, and without which thy grasping fingers

shall try in vain.

"Aunt Dolly," said Rose, returning, "there is a boy in the shop who

wants to know if you can make three mourning bonnets right away. Mrs.

Sharp died this morning."

"Oh! that's very nice. To be sure I can. Go tell him I will begin them

this minute. Those hats, Daffy, must not cost less than eight dollars

a-piece. It don't do for people in affliction to chaffer about prices

and make bargains beforehand, that's one comfort; they must be made of

the most expensive English crape, Daffy."

"I thought the Sharps were not very well off," suggested Daffy.

"That's nothing. They ought to pay a proper respect to the dead, if they

ain't; beside, they have rich relations. I shall be sure to get it out

of some of 'em, never fear. Hand the black crape, Daffy. I wonder what

ailed Mrs. Sharp? She was out to meetin' last Sunday. I hope her husband

will call to settle the bill. Daffy, don't it make you laugh to see what

a fuss widowers make _trying_ to grieve for their wives? It is

ridikilis! Mr. Sharp isn't a bad man to look at. How many children has

he, Daffy?"

"Ten," said Daffy.

"Couldn't stand it," said Dolly. "Rose is enough of a pill for me. I

shall certainly refuse him."

Rose Clark · 第 14 / 71 章