THE BIRTHDAY PRESENT.
“MAMMA,” said Rosamond, after a long silence, “do you know what I havebeen thinking of all this time?”
“No, my dear.—What?”
“Why, mamma, about my cousin Bell’s birthday; do you know what day itis?”
“No, I don’t remember.”
“Dear mother! don’t you remember it’s the 22nd of December; and herbirthday is the day after to-morrow? Don’t you recollect now? But younever remember about birthdays, mamma. That was just what I was thinkingof, that you never remember my sister Laura’s birthday, or—or—or _mine_,mamma.”
“What do you mean my dear? I remember your birthday perfectly well.”
“Indeed! but you never _keep_ it, though.”
“What do you mean by keeping your birthday?”
“Oh, mamma, you know very well—as Bell’s birthday is kept. In the firstplace, there is a great dinner.”
“And can Bell eat more upon her birthday than upon any other day?”
“No; nor I should not mind about the dinner, except the mince-pies. ButBell has a great many nice things—I don’t mean nice eatable things, butnice new playthings, given to her always on her birthday; and everybodydrinks her health, and she’s so happy.”
“But stay, Rosamond, how you jumble things together! Is it everybody’sdrinking her health that makes her so happy? or the new playthings, orthe nice mince pies? I can easily believe that she is happy whilst sheis eating a mince pie, or whilst she is playing; but how does everybody’sdrinking her health at dinner make her happy?”
Rosamond paused, and then said she did not know. “But,” added she, “the_nice new_ playthings, mother!”
[Picture: The Birthday Present]
“But why the nice new playthings? Do you like them only because they are_new_?”
“Not _only_—_I_ do not like playthings _only_ because they are new; butBell _does_, I believe—for that puts me in mind—Do you know, mother, shehad a great drawer full of _old_ playthings that she never used, and shesaid that they were good for nothing, because they were _old_; but Ithought many of them were good for a great deal more than the new ones.Now you shall be judge, mamma; I’ll tell you all that was in the drawer.”
“Nay, Rosamond, thank you, not just now; I have not time to listen toyou.”
“Well then, mamma, the day after to-morrow I can show you the drawer. Iwant you to judge very much, because I am sure I was in the right. And,mother,” added Rosamond, stopping her as she was going out of the room,“will you—not now, but when you’ve time—will you tell me why you neverkeep my birthday—why you never make any difference between that day andany other day?”
“And will you, Rosamond—not now, but when you have time to think aboutit—tell me why I should make any difference between your birthday and anyother day?”
Rosamond thought, but she could not find out any reason; besides, shesuddenly recollected that she had not time to think any longer; for therewas a certain work-basket to be finished, which she was making for hercousin Bell, as a present upon her birthday. The work was at a stand forwant of some filigree-paper, and, as her mother was going out, she askedher to take her with her, that she might buy some. Her sister Laura wentwith them.
“Sister,” said Rosamond, as they were walking along, “what have you donewith your half-guinea?”
“I have it in my pocket.”
“Dear! you will keep it for ever in your pocket. You know, my godmotherwhen she gave it to you, said you would keep it longer than I should keepmine; and I know what she thought by her look at the time. I heard hersay something to my mother.”
“Yes,” said Laura, smiling; “she whispered so loud that I could not helphearing her too. She said I was a little miser.”
“But did not you hear her say that I was very _generous_? and she’ll seethat she was not mistaken. I hope she’ll be by when I give my basket toBell—won’t it be beautiful? There is to be a wreath of myrtle, you know,round the handle, and a frost ground, and then the medallions—”
“Stay,” interrupted her sister, for Rosamond, anticipating the glories ofher work-basket, talked and walked so fast that she had passed, withoutperceiving it, the shop where the filigree-paper was to be bought. Theyturned back. Now it happened that the shop was the corner house of astreet, and one of the windows looked out into a narrow lane. A coachfull of ladies stopped at the door, just before they went in, so that noone had time immediately to think of Rosamond and her filigree-paper, andshe went to the window where she saw her sister Laura looking earnestlyat something that was passing in the lane.
Opposite to the window, at the door of a poor-looking house, there wassitting a little girl weaving lace. Her bobbins moved as quick aslightning, and she never once looked up from her work. “Is not she veryindustrious?” said Laura; “and very honest, too?” added she in a minuteafterwards; for just then a baker with a basket of rolls on his headpassed, and by accident one of the rolls fell close to the little girl.She took it up eagerly, looked at it as if she was very hungry, then putaside her work, and ran after the baker to return it to him. Whilst shewas gone, a footman in a livery, laced with silver, who belonged to thecoach that stood at the shop door, as he was lounging with one of hiscompanions, chanced to spy the weaving pillow, which she had left upon astone before the door. To divert himself (for idle people do mischiefoften to divert themselves) he took up the pillow, and entangled all thebobbins. The little girl came back out of breath to her work; but whatwas her surprise and sorrow to find it spoiled. She twisted anduntwisted, placed and replaced, the bobbins, while the footman stoodlaughing at her distress. She got up gently, and was retiring into thehouse, when the silver laced footman stopped her, saying, insolently,“Sit still, child.”
“I must go to my mother, sir,” said the child; “besides, you have spoiledall my lace. I can’t stay.”
“Can’t you?” said the brutal footman, snatching her weaving-pillow again,“I’ll teach you to complain of me.” And he broke off, one after another,all the bobbins, put them into his pocket, rolled her weaving-pillow downthe dirty lane, then jumped up behind his mistress’ coach, and was out ofsight in an instant.
“Poor girl!” exclaimed Rosamond, no longer able to restrain herindignation at this injustice; “poor little girl!”
At this instant her mother said to Rosamond—“Come, now, my dear, if youwant this filigree paper, buy it.”
“Yes, madam,” said Rosamond; and the idea of what her godmother and hercousin Bell would think of her generosity rushed again upon herimagination. All her feelings of pity were immediately suppressed.Satisfied with bestowing another exclamation upon the “_Poor littlegirl_!” she went to spend her half-guinea upon her filigree basket. Inthe meantime, she that was called the “_little miser_” beckoned to thepoor girl, and, opening the window, said, pointing to the cushion, “Is itquite spoiled?”
“Quite! quite spoiled! and I can’t, nor mother neither, buy another; andI can’t do anything else for my bread.” A few, but very few, tears fellas she said this.
“How much would another cost?” said Laura.
“Oh, a great—_great_ deal.”
“More than that?” said Laura, holding up her half-guinea.
“Oh, no.”
“Then you can buy another with that,” said Laura, dropping thehalf-guinea into her hand; and she shut the window before the child couldfind words to thank her, but not before she saw a look of joy andgratitude, which gave Laura more pleasure probably than all the praisewhich could have been bestowed upon her generosity.
Late on the morning of her cousin’s birthday, Rosamond finished herwork-basket. The carriage was at the door—Laura came running to callher; her father’s voice was heard at the same instant; so she was obligedto go down with her basket but half wrapped up in silver paper—acircumstance at which she was a good deal disconcerted; for the pleasureof surprising Bell would be utter
ly lost if one bit of the filigreeshould peep out before the proper time. As the carriage went on,Rosamond pulled the paper to one side and to the other, and by each ofthe four corners.
“It will never do, my dear,” said her father, who had been watching heroperations. “I am afraid you will never make a sheet of paper cover abox which is twice as large as itself.”
“It is not a box, father,” said Rosamond, a little peevishly; “it’s abasket.”
“Let us look at this basket,” said he, taking it out of her unwillinghands, for she knew of what frail materials it was made, and she dreadedits coming to pieces under her father’s examination. He took hold of thehandle rather roughly; when, starting off the coach seat, she cried, “Oh,sir! father! sir! you will spoil it indeed!” said she, with increasedvehemence, when, after drawing aside the veil of silver paper, she sawhim grasp the myrtle wreathed handle. “Indeed, sir, you will spoil thepoor handle.”
“But what is the use of _the poor handle_,” said her father, “if we arenot to take hold of it? And pray,” continued he, turning the basketround with his finger and thumb, rather in a disrespectful manner, “pray,is this the thing you have been about all this week? I have seen you allthis week dabbling with paste and rags; I could not conceive what youwere about. Is this the thing?”
“Yes, sir. You think, then, that I have wasted my time, because thebasket is of no use; but then it is a present for my Cousin Bell.”
“Your Cousin Bell will be very much obliged to you for a present that isof no use. You had better have given her the purple jar.”
“Oh, father! I thought you had forgotten that—it was two years ago; I’mnot so silly now. But Bell will like the basket, I know, though it is ofno use.”
“Then you think Bell is sillier now than you were two years ago,—well,perhaps that is true; but how comes it, Rosamond, now that you are sowise, that you are fond of such a silly person?”
“_I_, father?” said Rosamond, hesitating, “I don’t think I am _very_ fondof her.”
“I did not say _very_ fond.”
“Well, but I don’t think I am at all fond of her.”
“But you have spent a whole week in making this thing for her.”
“Yes, and all my half guinea besides.”
“Yet you think her silly, and you are not fond of her at all; and you sayyou know this thing will be of no use to her.”
“But it is her birthday, sir; and I am sure she will _expect_ something,and everybody else will give her something.”
“Then your reason for giving is because she expects you to give hersomething. And will you, or can you, or should you, always give, merelybecause others _expect_, or because somebody else gives?”
“Always?—no, not always.”
“Oh, only on birthdays.”
Rosamond, laughing: “Now you are making a joke of me, papa, I see; but Ithought you liked that people should be generous,—my godmother said thatshe did.”
“So do I, full as well as your godmother; but we have not yet quitesettled what it is to be generous.”
“Why is it not generous to make presents?” said Rosamond.
“That is the question which it would take up a great deal of time toanswer. But, for instance, to make a present of a thing that you knowcan be of no use to a person you neither love nor esteem, because it isher birthday, and because everybody gives her something, and because sheexpects something, and because your godmother says she likes that peopleshould be generous, seems to me, my dear Rosamond, to be, since I mustsay it, rather more like folly than generosity.”
Rosamond looked down upon the basket, and was silent. “Then I am a fool,am I?” said she looking up at last.
“Because you have made _one_ mistake? No. If you have sense enough tosee your own mistakes, and can afterwards avoid them, you will never be afool.”
Here the carriage stopped, and Rosamond recollected that the basket wasuncovered.
Now we must observe, that Rosamond’s father had not been too severe uponBell when he called her a silly girl. From her infancy she had beenhumoured; and at eight years old she had the misfortune to be a spoiledchild. She was idle, fretful, and selfish; so that nothing could makeher happy. On her birthday she expected, however, to be perfectly happy.Everybody in the house tried to please her, and they succeeded so well,that between breakfast and dinner she had only six fits of crying. Thecause of five of these fits no one could discover: but the last, and mostlamentable, was occasioned by a disappointment about a worked muslinfrock; and accordingly, at dressing time, her maid brought it to her,exclaiming, “See here, miss, what your mamma has sent you on yourbirthday. Here’s a frock fit for a queen—if it had but lace round thecuffs.”
“And why has not it lace around the cuffs? mamma said it should.”
“Yes, but mistress was disappointed about the lace; it is not come home.”
“Not come home, indeed! and didn’t they know it was my birthday? Butthen I say I won’t wear it without the lace—I can’t wear it without thelace, and I won’t.”
The lace, however, could not be had; and Bell at length submitted to letthe frock be put on.
“Come, Miss Bell, dry your eyes,” said the maid who _educated_ her; “dryyour eyes, and I’ll tell you something that will please you.”
“What, then?” said the child, pouting and sobbing.
“Why—but you must not tell that I told you.”
“No,—but if I am asked?”
“Why, if you are asked, you must tell the truth, to be sure. So I’llhold my tongue, miss.”
“Nay, tell me, though, and I’ll never tell—if I _am_ asked.”
“Well, then,” said the maid, “your cousin Rosamond is come, and hasbrought you the most _beautifullest_ thing you ever saw in your life; butyou are not to know anything about it till after dinner, because shewants to surprise you; and mistress has put it into her wardrobe tillafter dinner.”
“Till after dinner!” repeated Bell, impatiently; “I can’t wait till then;I must see it this minute.” The maid refused her several times, tillBell burst into another fit of crying, and the maid, fearing that hermistress would be angry with _her_, if Bell’s eyes were red at dinnertime, consented to show her the basket.
“How pretty!—but let me have it in my own hands,” said Bell, as the maidheld the basket up out of her reach.
“Oh, no, you must not touch it; for if you should spoil it, what wouldbecome of me?”
“Become of you, indeed!” exclaimed the spoiled child, who neverconsidered anything but her own immediate gratification—“Become of _you_,indeed! what signifies that—I sha’n’t spoil it; and I will have it in myown hands. If you don’t hold it down for me directly, I’ll tell that youshowed it to me.”
“Then you won’t snatch it?”
“No, no, I won’t indeed,” said Bell; but she had learned from her maid atotal disregard of truth. She snatched the basket the moment it waswithin her reach. A struggle ensued, in which the handle and lid weretorn off, and one of the medallions crushed inwards, before the littlefury returned to her senses.
Calmed at this sight, the next question was, how she should conceal themischief which she had done. After many attempts, the handle and lidwere replaced; the basket was put exactly in the same spot in which ithad stood before, and the maid charged the child, “_to look as if nothingwas the matter_.”
We hope that both children and parents will here pause for a moment toreflect. The habits of tyranny, meanness, and falsehood, which childrenacquire from living with bad servants, are scarcely ever conquered in thewhole course of their future lives.
After shutting up the basket they left the room, and in the adjoiningpassage they found a poor girl waiting with a small parcel in her hand.“What’s your business?” said the maid.
“I have brought home the lace, madam, that was bespoke for the younglady.”
“Oh, you have, have you, at last?” said Bell; “and pray why didn?
??t youbring it sooner?” The girl was going to answer, but the maid interruptedher, saying—“Come, come, none of your excuses; you are a little idle,good-for-nothing thing, to disappoint Miss Bell upon her birthday. Butnow you have brought it, let us look at it!”
The little girl gave the lace without reply, and the maid desired her togo about her business, and not to expect to be paid; for that hermistress could not see anybody, _because_ she was in a room full ofcompany.
“May I call again, madam, this afternoon?” said the child, timidly.
“Lord bless my stars!” replied the maid, “what makes people so poor, I_wonders_! I wish mistress would buy her lace at the warehouse, as Itold her, and not of these folks. Call again! yes, to be sure. Ibelieve you’d call, call, call twenty times for twopence.”
However ungraciously the permission to call again was granted, it wasreceived with gratitude. The little girl departed with a cheerfulcountenance; and Bell teazed her maid till she got her to sew the longwished-for lace upon her cuffs.
Unfortunate Bell!—All dinner time passed, and people were so hungry, sobusy, or so stupid, that not an eye observed her favourite piece offinery. Till at length she was no longer able to conceal her impatience,and turning to Laura, who sat next to her, she said, “You have no laceupon your cuffs. Look how beautiful mine is!—is not it? Don’t you wishyour mamma could afford to give some like it? But you can’t get any ifshe would, for this was made on purpose for me on my birthday, and nobodycan get a bit more anywhere, if they would give the world for it.”
“But cannot the person who made it,” said Laura, “make any more like it?”
“No, no, no!” cried Bell; for she had already learned, either from hermaid or her mother, the mean pride which values things not for beingreally pretty or useful, but for being such as nobody else can procure.“Nobody can get any like it, I say,” repeated Bell; “nobody in all Londoncan make it but one person, and that person will never make a bit foranybody but me, I am sure. Mamma won’t let her, if I ask her not.”
“Very well,” said Laura, coolly, “I do not want any of it; you need notbe so violent: I assure you that I don’t want any of it.”
“Yes, but you do, though,” said Bell, more angrily.
“No, indeed,” said Laura, smiling.
“You do, in the bottom of your heart; but you say you don’t to plague me,I know,” cried Bell, swelling with disappointed vanity. “It is prettyfor all that, and it cost a great deal of money too, and nobody shallhave any like it, if they cried their eyes out.”
Laura received this declaration in silence—Rosamond smiled; and at hersmile the ill-suppressed rage of the spoiled child burst forth into theseventh and loudest fit of crying which had yet been heard on herbirthday.
“What’s the matter, my pet?” cried her mother; “come to me, and tell mewhat’s the matter.” Bell ran roaring to her mother; but no otherwiseexplained the cause of her sorrow than by tearing the fine lace withfrantic gestures from her cuffs, and throwing the fragments into hermother’s lap. “Oh! the lace, child!—are you mad?” said her mother,catching hold of both her hands. “Your beautiful lace, my dear love—doyou know how much it cost?”
“I don’t care how much it cost—it is not beautiful, and I’ll have none ofit,” replied Bell, sobbing; “for it is not beautiful.”
“But it is beautiful,” retorted her mother; “I chose the pattern myself.Who has put it into your head, child, to dislike it? Was it Nancy?”
“No, not Nancy, but _them_, mamma,” said Bell, pointing to Laura andRosamond.
“Oh, fie! don’t _point_,” said her mother, putting down her stubbornfinger; “nor say _them_, like Nancy; I am sure you misunderstood. MissLaura, I am sure, did not mean any such thing.”
“No, madam; and I did not say any such thing, that I recollect,” saidLaura, gently. “Oh, no, indeed!” cried Rosamond, warmly, rising in hersister’s defence.
No defence or explanation, however, was to be heard, for everybody hadnow gathered round Bell, to dry her tears, and to comfort her for themischief she had done to her own cuffs. They succeeded so well, that inabout a quarter of an hour the young lady’s eyes, and the reddened archesover her eyebrows came to their natural colour; and the business beingthus happily hushed up, the mother, as a reward to her daughter for hergood humour, begged that Rosamond would now be so good as to produce her“charming present.”
Rosamond, followed by all the company, amongst whom, to her great joy,was her godmother, proceeded to the dressing room. “Now I am sure,”thought she, “Bell will be surprised, and my godmother will see she wasright about my generosity.”
The doors of the wardrobe were opened with due ceremony, and the filigreebasket appeared in all its glory. “Well, this is a charming present,indeed!” said the godmother, who was one of the company; “_my_ Rosamondknows how to make presents.” And as she spoke, she took hold of thebasket, to lift it down to the admiring audience. Scarcely had shetouched it, when, lo! the basket fell to the ground, and only the handleremained in her hand. All eyes were fixed upon the wreck. Exclamationsof sorrow were heard in various tones; and “Who can have done this?” wasall that Rosamond could say. Bell stood in sullen silence, which sheobstinately preserved in the midst of the inquiries that were made aboutthe disaster.
At length the servants were summoned, and amongst them, Nancy, MissBell’s maid and governess. She affected much surprise when she saw whathad befallen the basket, and declared that she knew nothing of thematter, but that she had seen her mistress in the morning put it quitesafe into the wardrobe; and that, for her part, she had never touched it,or thought of touching it, in her born days. “Nor Miss Bell, neither,ma’am,—I can answer for her; for she never knew of its being there,because I never so much as mentioned it to her, that there was such athing in the house, because I knew Miss Rosamond wanted to surprise herwith the secret; so I never mentioned a sentence of it—did I, Miss Bell?”
Bell, putting on the deceitful look which her maid had taught her,answered boldly, “_No_;” but she had hold of Rosamond’s hand, and at theinstant she uttered this falsehood she squeezed it terribly. “Why do yousqueeze my hand so?” said Rosamond, in a low voice; “what are you afraidof?”
“Afraid of!” cried Bell, turning angrily; “I’m not afraid ofanything,—I’ve nothing to be afraid about.”
“Nay, I did not say you had,” whispered Rosamond; “but only if you did byaccident—you know what I mean—I should not be angry if you did—only sayso.”
“I say I did not!” cried Bell, furiously; “Mamma, mamma! Nancy! mycousin Rosamond won’t believe me! That’s very hard. It’s very rude, andI won’t bear it—I won’t.”
“Don’t be angry, love. Don’t,” said the maid.
“Nobody suspects you, darling,” said her mother; “but she has too muchsensibility. Don’t cry, love; nobody suspected you. But you know,”continued she, turning to the maid, “somebody must have done this, and Imust know how it was done. Miss Rosamond’s charming present must not bespoiled in this way, in my house, without my taking proper notice of it.I assure you I am very angry about it, Rosamond.”
Rosamond did not rejoice in her anger, and had nearly made a sad mistakeby speaking aloud her thoughts—“_I was very foolish_—” she began andstopped.
“Ma’am,” cried the maid, suddenly, “I’ll venture to say I know who didit.”
“Who?” said everyone, eagerly. “Who?” said Bell, trembling.
“Why, miss, don’t you recollect that little girl with the lace, that wesaw peeping about in the passage? I’m sure she must have done it; forhere she was by herself half an hour or more, and not another creaturehas been in mistress’ dressing-room, to my certain knowledge, sincemorning. Those sort of people have so much curiosity. I’m sure she musthave been meddling with it,” added the maid.
“Oh, yes, that’s the thing,” said the mistress, decidedly. “Well, MissRosamond, for your comfort she
shall never come into my house again.”
“Oh, that would not comfort me at all,” said Rosamond; “besides, we arenot sure that she did it, and if—” A single knock at the door was heardat this instant. It was the little girl, who came to be paid for herlace.
“Call her in,” said the lady of the house; “let us see her directly.”
The maid, who was afraid that the girl’s innocence would appear if shewere produced, hesitated; but upon her mistress repeating her commands,she was forced to obey. The girl came in with a look of simplicity; butwhen she saw a room full of company she was a little abashed. Rosamondand Laura looked at her and one another with surprise, for it was thesame little girl whom they had seen weaving lace.
“Is not it she?” whispered Rosamond to her sister.
“Yes, it is; but hush,” said Laura, “she does not know us. Don’t say aword, let us hear what she will say.”
Laura got behind the rest of the company as she spoke, so that the littlegirl could not see her.
“Vastly well!” said Bell’s mother; “I am waiting to see how long you willhave the assurance to stand there with that innocent look. Did you eversee that basket before?”
“Yes, ma’am,” said the girl.
“_Yes_, _Ma’am_!” cried the maid; “and what else do you know about it?You had better confess it at once, and mistress, perhaps, will say nomore about it.”
“Yes, do confess it,” added Bell, earnestly.
“Confess what, madam?” said the little girl; “I never touched the basket,madam.”
“You never _touched_ it; but you confess,” interrupted Bell’s mother,“that you _did see_ it before. And, pray, how came you to see it? Youmust have opened my wardrobe.”
“No, indeed, ma’am,” said the little girl; “but I was waiting in thepassage, ma’am, and this door was partly open; and looking at the maid,you know, I could not help seeing it.”
“Why, how could you see through the doors of my wardrobe?” rejoined thelady.
The maid, frightened, pulled the little girl by the sleeve.
“Answer me,” said the lady, “where did you see this basket?” Anotherstronger pull.
“I saw it, madam, in her hands,” looking at the maid; “and—”
“Well, and what became of it afterwards?”
“Ma’am”—hesitating—“miss pulled, and by accident—I believe, I saw,ma’am—miss, you know what I saw.”
“I do not know—I do not know; and if I did, you had no business there;and mamma won’t believe you, I am sure.” Everybody else, however, didbelieve; and their eyes were fixed upon Bell in a manner which made herfeel rather ashamed.
“What do you all look at me so for? Why do you all look so? And am I tobe put to shame on my birthday?” cried she, bursting into a roar ofpassion; “and all for this nasty thing!” added she, pushing away theremains of the basket, and looking angrily at Rosamond.
“Bell! Bell! O, fie! fie!—Now I am ashamed of you; that’s quite rude toyour cousin,” said her mother, who was more shocked at her daughter’swant of politeness than at her falsehood. “Take her away, Nancy, tillshe has done crying,” added she to the maid, who accordingly carried offher pupil.
Rosamond, during this scene, especially at the moment when her presentwas pushed away with such disdain, had been making reflections upon thenature of true generosity. A smile from her father, who stood by, asilent spectator of the catastrophe of the filigree basket, gave rise tothese reflections; nor were they entirely dissipated by the condolence ofthe rest of the company, nor even by the praises of her godmother, who,for the purpose of condoling with her, said, “Well, my dear Rosamond, Iadmire your generous spirit. You know I prophesied that your half-guineawould be gone the soonest. Did I not, Laura?” said she, appealing, in asarcastic tone, to where she thought Laura was. “Where is Laura? Idon’t see her.” Laura came forward. “You are too _prudent_ to throwaway your money like your sister. Your half-guinea, I’ll answer for it,is snug in your pocket—Is it not?”
“No, madam,” answered she, in a low voice.
But low as the voice of Laura was, the poor little lace-girl heard it;and now, for the first time, fixing her eyes upon Laura, recollected herbenefactress. “Oh, that’s the young lady!” she exclaimed, in a tone ofjoyful gratitude, “the good, good young lady, who gave me thehalf-guinea, and would not stay to be thanked for it; but I _will_ thankher now.”
“The half-guinea, Laura!” said her godmother. “What is all this?”
“I’ll tell you, madam, if you please,” said the little girl.
It was not in expectation of being praised for it, that Laura had beengenerous, and therefore everybody was really touched with the history ofthe weaving-pillow; and whilst they praised, felt a certain degree ofrespect, which is not always felt by those who pour forth eulogiums._Respect_ is not an improper word, even applied to a child of Laura’sage; for let the age or situation of the person be what it may, theycommand respect who deserve it.
“Ah, madam!” said Rosamond to her godmother, “now you see—you see she is_not_ a little miser. I’m sure that’s better than wasting half a guineaupon a filigree basket; is it not, ma’am?” said she, with an eagernesswhich showed that she had forgotten all her own misfortunes in sympathywith her sister. “This is being _really generous_, father, is it not?”
“Yes, Rosamond,” said her father, and he kissed her; “this _is_ beingreally generous. It is not only by giving away money that we can showgenerosity; it is by giving up to others anything that we like ourselves:and therefore,” added he, smiling, “it is really generous of you to giveyour sister the thing you like best of all others.”
“The thing I like the best of all others, father,” said Rosamond, halfpleased, half vexed. “What is that, I wonder? You don’t mean _praise_,do you, sir?”
“Nay, you must decide that yourself, Rosamond.”
“Why, sir,” said she, ingenuously, “perhaps it _was_ ONCE the thing Iliked best; but the pleasure I have just felt makes me like somethingelse much better.”