“Rosy’ll make more money than any of us,” declared Cornelius, generally called “Corny,” between his mouthfuls. “How I wish I’d thought about fixing up roots and ferns and such things in old cracked saucers.”
“But you help me,” cried Rosy. “I couldn’t even dig the roots without you, Corny.”
“And me, too!” cried Roly Poly, or Primrose, which was her real name. “I always go with you, Rosy, you know,” and she laid down the little bone she was slowly picking to regard her sister gravely.
“So you do!” cried Rosy and Cornelius together. “I’m sure we couldn’t ever get along without you, Pet;” whereat the baby of the family felt happy, and smilingly resumed her bone once more.
But that night a rap sounded on the outer door, sharp and decided.
“Run and see who it is, Jack,” said Mother Brimmer, looking up from her stocking-mending.
Jack came hurrying back, a large parcel with white paper loosely folded over it, in his hand.
“It’s for Rosy,” he said, setting it down.
“For me?” cried Rosy, too astonished to open it; but Cornelius helped her, and at last the paper was torn off.
“It’s your old red wood-garden!” exclaimed Corny, dreadfully disappointed, at least expecting a big cake.
“Oh!” Rosy clasped her hands, and took an ecstatic little spin in the middle of the floor. “Now it isn’t wicked to want it!” she cried, dreadfully excited.
“If I’d known you wanted to keep one,” said Jack slowly, “so bad, I never’d sold it.”
“I wonder what other people do who haven’t got such a minister, and his wife,” observed Mrs. Brimmer, wiping her eyes, as Rosy fell to oh-ing over her treasure, and fondling each leaf. “Folks ought to be good who sit under their preaching,” she added.
“We’ll be good to-morrow, anyway,” declared Cornelius. “My! don’t it seem funny to go to church in the middle of the week!”
But on the morrow, wasn’t that a festive scene? The table was laid in the keeping-room, whose door opened into the kitchen; knives and forks were laid for seven guests: Mr. and Mrs. Higginson, the minister and his good wife; Miss Clorinda Peaseley, a staunch friend of the family; old Widow Tucker and her spinster daughter who went out tailoring, and lived down in the Hollow; not because they would be such pleasant additions to the party, as that Mother Brimmer felt sure that no other invitations would be sent to them, bidding them to a Thanksgiving dinner; and lame Joey Clark and his sister, for the same reason, and because the children had begged to ask them.