Children's stories; Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction; Young women -- Conduct of life -- Juvenile fiction
“There! All are in now, and only the steamer trunk is left to pack
at the last moment,” said Jenny, folding her tired arms after a
protracted struggle with half a dozen new gowns, and a perplexing
medley of hats, boots, gloves, and perfumery. Two large trunks stood
in the ante-room ready to go; the third was now done, and nothing
remained but the small one and Jenny's shabby portmanteau.
“How nicely you have managed! I ought to have helped, only you
wouldn't let me and I should have spoilt my wrapper. Come and rest
and help me sort out this rubbish,” said Ethel, who would have been
dressed and out if the arrival of a new peignoir had not kept her in
to enjoy the lovely pink and blue thing, all lace and ribbon and
French taste.
“You will never get them into that box, dear,” answered Jenny,
gladly sitting down beside her on the sofa, which was strewn with
trinkets of all sorts, more or less damaged by careless handling,
and the vicissitudes of a wandering trunk.
“I don't believe they are worth fussing over. I'm tired of them, and
they look very mean and silly after seeing real jewels here. I'd
throw them away if I hadn't spent so much money on them,” said
Ethel, turning over the tarnished filigree, mock pearl, and
imitation coral necklaces, bracelets, and brooches that were
tumbling out of the frail boxes in which they came.
“They will look pretty to people at home who have not been seeing so
many as we have. I'll sew up the broken cases, and rub up the
silver, and string the beads, and make all as good as new, and you
will find plenty of girls at home glad to get them, I am sure,”
answered Jenny, rapidly bringing order out of chaos with those
skilful hands of hers.
Ethel leaned back and watched her silently for a few minutes. During
this last week our young lady had been thinking a good deal, and was
conscious of a strong desire to tell Jane Bassett how much she loved
and thanked her for all her patient and faithful care during the six
months now nearly over. But she was proud, and humility was hard to
learn; self-will was sweet, and to own one's self in the wrong a
most distasteful task. The penitent did not know how to begin, so
waited for an opportunity, and presently it came.
“Shall you be glad to get home, Jenny?” she asked in her most
caressing tone, as she hung her prettiest locket round her friend's
neck; for during this illness all formality and coolness had melted
away, and “Miss Bassett” was “Jenny dear” now.
“I shall be very, very glad to see my precious people again, and
tell them all about my splendid holiday; but I can't help wishing
that we were to stay till spring, now that we are here, and I have
no teaching, and may never get such another chance. I'm afraid it
seems ungrateful when I've had so much; but to go back without
seeing Rome is a trial, I confess,” answered honest Jane, rubbing
away at a very dull paste bandeau.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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