"
"My cousins at Oldburgh!" cried Kate. "May they have some of these
pretty things?" And as her aunt answered "We hope they will," Kate
flew at her, and hugged her quite tight round the throat; then, when
Mrs. Umfraville undid the clasp, and returned the kiss, she went like
an India-rubber ball with a backward bound, put her hands together
over her head, and gasped out, "Oh, thank you, thank you!"
"My dear, don't go quite mad. You will jump into that calabash, and
then it won't be fit for anybody. Are you so very glad?"
"Oh! so glad! Pretty things do come so seldom to Oldburgh!"
"Well, we thought you might like to send Miss Wardour this shawl."
It was a beautiful heavy shawl of the soft wool of the Cashmere
goats; really of every kind of brilliant hue, but so dexterously
blended together, that the whole looked dark and sober. But Kate did
not look with favour on the shawl.
"A shawl is so stupid," she said. "If you please, I had rather Mary
had the work-box."
"But the work-box is for Lady Fanny."
"Oh! but I meant my own," said Kate earnestly. "If you only knew
what a pity it is to give nice things to me; they always get into
such a mess. Now, Mary always has her things so nice; and she works
so beautifully; she has never let Lily wear a stitch but of her
setting; and she always wished for a box like this. One of her
friends at school had a little one; and she used to say, when we
played at roe's egg, that she wanted nothing but an ivory work-box;
and she has nothing but an old blue one, with the steel turned
black!"
"We must hear what your uncle says, for you must know that he meant
the box for you.
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