Ida. "And I want a fresh supply of needles and thread, and every thing, in short, for these little gipsies have given away my whole stock."
"Plenty, plenty shall you have; for plenty there is. And do you know that you are to have a grand Christmas present? But if you guess till morning you will not guess right; for 'tis a present that does not often fall to the lot of the daughters of thread and needle people. Oh, Mrs. Armstrong, let us remember the poor, for we are growing very rich."
The girls guessed; and Mrs. Armstrong was made to guess; but they fell either above or below the mark; and tell, Jenny Hart would not. Then came the little story, that one or the other read every evening. And, to see Jenny Hart's admiration at their progress! And then came the writing books; and, lastly, just as the clock struck ten, came a tap at the door, and little Betty, with her face hidden in her handkerchief, presented to the astonished Jenny Hart two letters.
"Oh, you rogues," said the delighted little maiden—"letters from you—oh, how nicely they are written. And I dare say they are all spelled right; hey, Mrs. Armstrong? And how sweetly they smell of roses. I'll show them to your father and mother in the morning; and, if there is a chance, to Archy Campbell."
"And to Jasper Merry," said black eyed Rona; "and to Alfred Gray," said the little blue eye. "I will, I will," said Jenny Hart.
"And why not to Peter Squires and Ira Elkado?" said Mrs. Armstrong. "Because," said Jenny Hart, "I never think of Peter Squires from one year's end to the other. I see quite through him when he stands near me; such a mere shadow he is. Not but that he is a faithful, honest creature. I'll get Mr. Martin Barton to set him up in business, one of these days; and, as to Ira Elkado—
