uttered the last words.
“I don’t give to people whom I care nothing for. Can’t do it,
especially at Christmas, when goodwill should go into everything
one does. If all these ‘pretties’ are for dear friends, you must have a
great many.?
“I thought they were friends, but I find many of them are not, and
that’s the trouble, sir.?
“Tell me all about it, dear, and let the old glove go,” he said, sitting
down beside her with his most sympathetic air.
But she held the glove fast, saying eagerly, “No, no, I love to do
this! I don’t feel as if I could look at you while I tell what a bad,
suspicious girl I am,” she added, keeping her eyes on her work.
“Very well, I’m ready for confessions of any iniquity and glad to
get them, for sometimes lately I’ve seen a cloud in my girl’s eyes
and caught a worried tone in her voice. Is there a bitter drop in the
cup that promised to be so sweet, Rose??
“Yes, Uncle. I’ve tried to think there was not, but it is there, and I
don’t like it. I’m ashamed to tell, and yet I want to, because you
will show me how to make it sweet or assure me that I shall be the
better for it, as you used to do when I took medicine.?
She paused a minute, sewing swiftly; then out came the trouble all
in one burst of girlish grief and chagrin.
“Uncle, half the people who are so kind to me don’t care a bit for
me, but for what I can give them, and that makes me unhappy,
because I was so glad and proud to be liked. I do wish I hadn’t a
penny in the world, then I should know who my true friends were.?
“Poor little lass! She has found out that all that glitters is not gold,
and the disillusion has begun,” said the doctor to himself, adding
aloud, smiling yet pitiful, “And so all the pleasure is gone out of
the pretty gifts and Christmas is a failure??
“Oh, no not for those whom nothing can make me doubt! It is
sweeter than ever to make these things, because my heart is in
every stitch and I know that, poor as they are, they will be dear to
you, Aunty Plen, Aunt Jessie, Phebe, and the boys.?
She opened a drawer where lay a pile of pretty gifts, wrought with
loving care by her own hands, touching them tenderly as she spoke
and patting the sailor’s knot of blue ribbon on one fat parcel with a
smile that told how unshakable her faith in someone was. “But
these,” she said, pulling open another drawer and tossing over its
gay contents with an air half sad, half scornful, “these I bought and
give because they are expected. These people care only for a rich
gift, not one bit for the giver, whom they will secretly abuse if she
is not as generous as they expect. How can I enjoy that sort of
thing, Uncle??
“You cannot, but perhaps you do some of them injustice, my dear.
Don’t let the envy or selfishness of a few poison your faith in all.
Are you sure that none of these girls care for you?” he asked,
reading a name here and there on the parcels scattered about.
“I’m afraid I am. You see I heard several talking together the other
evening at Annabel’s, only a few words, but it hurt me very much,
for nearly everyone was speculating on what I would give them
and hoping it would be something fine. ‘She’s so rich she ought to
be generous,’ said one. ‘I’ve been perfectly devoted to her for weeks
and hope she won’t forget it,’ said another. ‘If she doesn’t give me
some of her gloves, I shall think she’s very mean, for she has
heaps, and I tried on a pair in fun so she could see they fitted and
take a hint,’ added a third. I did take the hint, you see.” And Rose
opened a handsome box in which lay several pairs of her best
gloves, with buttons enough to satisfy the heart of the most