But it was not all silly vanity: she
was a gentle, loving little girl, very good-natured, and sure to get
fond of all who were kind to her; and she liked Kate's bright ways
and amusing manner--perhaps really liking her more than if she had
understood her better; and Kate liked her, and rushed after her on
every occasion, as the one creature with whom it was possible to play
and to chatter.
No, not quite the one; for poor sick Alice was better for talk and
quiet play than her sister. She read a great deal; and there was an
exchange of story-books, and much conversation over them, between her
and Kate--indeed, the spirit and animation of this new friend quite
made her light up, and brighten out of her languor whenever the
shrill laughing voice came near. And Kate, after having got over her
first awe at coming near a child so unlike herself, grew very fond of
her, and felt how good and sweet and patient she was. She never ran
off to play till Alice was taken in-doors; and spent all her spare
time in-doors in drawing picture stories, which were daily explained
to the two sisters at some seat in the pine-woods.
There was one very grand one, that lasted all the latter part of the
stay at Bournemouth--as the evenings grew longer, and Kate had more
time for preparing it, at the rate of four or five scenes a day,
drawn and painted--being the career of a very good little girl, whose
parents were killed in a railway accident, (a most fearful picture
was that--all blunders being filled up by spots of vermilion blood
and orange-coloured flame!) and then came all the wonderful exertions
by which she maintained her brothers and sisters, taught them, and
kept them in order.
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