II.

Not growing better at the hospital, Ellie begged to be taken home.  Rather than live apart from those she loved, she strove to be content to remain alone day after day, propped up by an inverted chair upon a wretched bed.  Or, when she felt stronger, with the aid of a pair of rude crutches, she would drag herself to the window to watch patiently for the return of the dear bread-winners, whose toil she would so willingly have shared.

There, in a little stuffy room, upon the top floor of the old house, she spent the long, sultry summer; there she remained when autumn came; there the approaching Christmas holidays were likely to find her.

How was it, then, that Ellie was generally cheery and blithe?  Perhaps her mother’s prayer each morning, as she bade her good-bye to go to work, had most to do with it.  “May Jesus and His Blessed Mother watch over you, mavourneen!” the good woman would say, with a sigh at the necessity for leaving her.

Frequently, when the child could have wept for loneliness, the words would keep echoing in her heart.  She was a well-disposed little creature, and those hours spent alone often brought serious thoughts, which molded and beautified her character.  But Ellie was a thoroughly natural child:  there was none of the story-book goodness about her.  She was keenly interested in everything that went on.  She thought there was no one like mother, but it was Katy who represented the world to her,—­the world of McNaughton’s store, with its brightness and beautiful wares, and its ever-changing crowd of handsomely costumed ladies intent upon the pleasures of shopping.  Any scrap of news which one fagged out little cashgirl brought home at the close of the day was eagerly listened to by the other; who found her enforced idleness so irksome.

Katy had a great deal to narrate at the close of the day upon which our story opened.  Sitting upon the foot of Ellie’s bed, she told how she upset the pyramid of note-paper; and what trouble she would have been in, but for the kind lady who so promptly came to the rescue.  To Ellie’s quick imagination the story had all the charm of a fairy tale.  And when, at the close, her sister placed in her hands the orange and the tiny box wherein lay the rose, still quite fresh and fragrant, her face beamed with delight; and Katy went to bed very happy, feeling herself more than repaid for having treasured them so carefully.

The next morning, when Katy reached the store, she found everybody in a state of pleasurable excitement over the opening of the holiday goods; for it wanted but three weeks to Christmas.  At the end of the stationery counter, where the pyramid of note-paper had been, an immense stack of dolls was now attractively displayed.  The little cashgirl stood before it, lost in admiration.  There were little dolls and big ones; dolls with blue eyes, and others with brown; some with light hair, and some with dark; bebee Jumeau and bebee Brue; rubber dolls, and rag dolls with papier-mache faces.