"Take care;
you're tipping your candle over; you'll get the grease on the carpet."
"Why don't you mind what you're doing?" said Aunt Maria.
Young Lucretia had scant encouragement to open upon the subject in her
mind, but she did. "They're going to have lots of presents on the
Christmas-tree," she remarked, tipping her candle again.
"Are you going to hold that candle straight or not?" cried Aunt
Lucretia. "Who is going to have lots of presents?"
"All the other girls."
When the aunts got very much in earnest about anything they spoke with
such vehement unison that it had the effect of a duet; it was difficult
to tell which was uppermost. "Well, the other girls can have lots of
presents; if their folks want to get presents for 'em they can," said
they. "There's one thing about it, you won't get anything, and you
needn't expect anything. I never approved of this giving presents
Christmas, anyway. It's an awful tax an' a foolish piece of business."
Young Lucretia's lips quivered so she could hardly speak. "They'll think
it's--so--funny if--I don't have--anything," she said.
"Let 'em think it's funny if they want to. You take your candle an' go
to bed, an' don't say any more about it. Mind you hold that candle
straight."
Young Lucretia tried to hold the candle straight as she went up-stairs,
but it was hard work, her eyes were so misty with tears. Her little face
was all puckered up with her silent crying as she trudged wearily up the
stairs.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25