The Girls Own Paper, Vol. VIII. No. 358, November 6, 1886 | Page 7

them golden-haired, red-cheeked, chubby urchins, strikingly like their father. Willie, who was now fifteen, was dressed as a sailor, for he had already been three years in the navy, and was now at home for a week's holiday, while Charlie, whom we last saw crying in his cradle, was on his way to feed the pigs, and had just deposited his pail in front of his mother to stop and look at her work.
"Is it nearly finished, mother?" asked Charlie.
The "it" was a smock made of very coarse linen, over which Mrs. Shelley and another little pair of hands had been toiling hard every afternoon for the last fortnight.
"Yes, if Fairy would only sit still and help me, we might finish it before supper. Just call her, Willie, I can't think what the child is doing; she is in her own room," replied Mrs. Shelley, who is now a comely woman of six or seven and thirty, and has apparently had but few sorrows, as not a wrinkle marks her smooth forehead, nor has a single grey hair yet made its appearance among her bright brown locks.
"Well, whether it is finished or not, Jack will never wear it, I am sure, so I hope I shall have it handed over to me," said Charlie.
"Nonsense, Charlie, pray don't say anything of the kind before Jack. Your father will insist on his wearing it, and as Fairy has made a great deal of it, I hope we shall persuade him to put it on to-morrow," said Mrs. Shelley, rather anxiously, for she was by no means so sure as she professed to be that Jack would condescend to wear a smock.
"I know he won't, mother; but what has Fairy got in her hand? Oh, my goodness me, what is that fine thing, Fairy?" asked Charlie, as, in answer to Willie's repeated shouts, Fairy made her appearance.
She was a tall, slight child, straight as a dart, still rather fragile in appearance, but with a healthy pink in her cheeks that did credit to Sussex air and living. Her hair was long, and floated about in the summer breeze in great waves of gold, the long silky tresses reaching below her waist. In striking contrast to this golden hair and fair pink and white complexion were her great brown eyes, with their long, dark lashes and delicately, though firmly, pencilled eyebrows. The rest of her features were nothing out of the common way, but her fair hair and dark eyes and brilliant complexion would at once have attracted attention, if, young as she was, she had not already been one of those people who can't come into a room without making their presence felt. The name little Jack--no longer little, by the way--had chosen for her years ago suited her exactly. Lightly as a fairy she tripped and flitted about, bright as a sunbeam, as though no such thing as care or sorrow existed in the world. Dainty in all her ways, neat and trim in her dress, with tiny hands and feet, a better name than Fairy could not have been given her. She was dressed in a pink print, simply yet well-made, and altogether the child looked out of keeping with her surroundings, particularly with her foster brother, Charlie, in his corduroys and his swill-pail by his side.
"You dreadful boy, take that horrid pail away before I come a step further," cried Fairy, pinching her little nose with her delicate white taper fingers.
"All right, but do show us that fine thing you have in your hand first," said Charlie.
"No, no, no; go to your pigs first, you'll spoil my lovely present for Jack if you come near me," said Fairy, hiding her hands behind her, and running backwards to avoid any chance of a collision with Charlie and his pail as he prepared to obey her commands.
"What is it, Fairy?" asked Mrs. Shelley, as Charlie moved off, looking up with curiosity from her work.
"It is a shaving-case I have been making for Jack out of that quilt of mine you said I might have, mother," replied Fairy, holding out an elaborate shaving-case, beautifully quilted in blue satin.
"A shaving-case? But, my dear Fairy, Jack does not shave. How could you cut that lovely thing up in this way?" said Mrs. Shelley.
"A shaving-case! What is the use of it if he did shave?" asked Willie, who was of a practical turn of mind.
"The use of it! Why, to keep his shaving-cloths in, of course. Mr. Leslie has one something like this, only not half so pretty," said Fairy, eyeing her handiwork with admiration.
"It is much too good for Jack," said Charlie, who had come back from his pigs.
"Nothing is too good for Jack, is it, mother?" asked Fairy, with an imperceptible nod at Willie.
"It