"
There was a pause of a few moments after this. Cousin Bessie then
looked up and said, half regretfully:
"I wish I had a few spare dollars now. I could, perhaps do some good
with them."
"What is your latest freak?" asked I, returning her steady glance.
"I would like to send for his little girl," said she, "the winter is
coming on, and there will be extra work to do, in consequence. She may
be smart enough to clean our windows and wash the wainscoting. She
could run errands and answer the door for a trifle, and we might teach
her her prayers and her catechism and send her to church on Sunday,
which is never done for her now."
"But you do not know who or what she may be," I argued dissuasively.
"That is nothing," she persisted. "She is only a child, and our house
is so small that no harm can be done in it unknown to me. I think it
would do her good if she came. You and Zita might take an interest in
her and make something respectable of her poor, empty life."
"Perhaps you are right, Cousin Bessie," I conceded, "let us send for
her, I can easily afford to clothe her, it will be such a pleasure to
me to contribute towards the success of one of your good works."
And so we sent for her. Next day she arrived, carrying a miniature
wooden box in one hand and a little old faded umbrella in the other.
She was small and dark, with sharp, black eyes and pale features. Her
short hair clustered thickly around her brow and over her ears, from
which hung suspended a pair of long brass ear-rings.
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