Through it all Bebee sat quite quiet on the edge of the little
truckle-bed, with her eyes fixed on the apple bough and the singing
chaffinch.
She heard them all patiently.
They were all her good friends, friends old and true. This one had given
her cherries for many a summer. That other had bought her a little waxen
Jesus at the Kermesse. The old woman in the blue linen skirt had taken
her to her first communion. She who wanted her sister to have the crust
and the flowers, had brought her a beautiful painted book of hours that
had cost a whole franc. Another had given her the solitary wonder,
travel, and foreign feast of her whole life,--a day fifteen miles away at
the fair at Mechlin. The last speaker of all had danced her on her knee a
hundred times in babyhood, and told her legends, and let her ride in the
green cart behind big curly-coated Tambour.
Bebee did not doubt that these trusty old friends meant well by her, and
yet a certain heavy sense fell on her that in all these counsels there
was not the same whole-hearted and frank goodness that had prompted the
gifts to her of the waxen Jesus, and the Kermesse of Mechlin.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25