Under the Country Sky | Page 3

Indian red!" came tumbling from the mouths of the eager girls, as
in the fading light from the attic window they examined the
hand-woven rugs. There was sincerity in their voices; Georgiana had
known there would be; she was sure of the art and skill plainly to be
found in her product.
"I'm afraid not, Phyl. These are all orders, and I'm weeks behind. They
go to certain exclusive city shops, and I have all I can do."

"You must have struck a gold mine. I'm so glad!" congratulated
warm-hearted Phyllis.
"Well, not exactly. It's rather slow work, when you do housework, too,"
acknowledged Georgiana. "However, it does very well; it keeps us in
firewood--and oysters--for the winter."
She instantly regretted this speech, for it led, presently, as she might
have known it would, to delicately worded expressions of hope that she
would in the future give her friends the pleasure of purchasing her
wares.
Down by the fireplace again Georgiana turned upon them in her old
jesting way, which yet had in it, as they all felt, a quality which was
new. "Stop it, girls. No, I'll not sell one of you a rug of any size, shape,
or colour. I'm far behind, as I told you. But--I'll send Madge a gorgeous
one for a wedding present, if she'll tell me her preferences, and I'll do
the same for each of you, when you meet your fates. Now stop talking
about it. I only showed you to demonstrate that this is a busy world for
me as well as for you, and that I'm very content in it. Dot, don't you
want just one more of these fruitkins? By the way, since you like them
so much, I'll give you the recipe. I made it up--wasn't it clever of me?"
"You're much the cleverest of us all, anyway," murmured Dot meekly,
nibbling at the delicious morsel, while her hostess rapidly wrote out a
little formula and gave it to her with a smile.
They were soon off after that, for the early winter twilight was upon
them, and the lights in the waiting car outside suddenly came on with a
suggestive completeness. Georgiana assisted her guests into luxurious
coats and capes made of or lined with chinchilla, with otter, with sable;
handed gloves and muffs; and listened to all manner of affectionate
parting speeches, every one of which contained pressing invitations for
visits, short or long. Each girl made promises of future calls, and
professed herself eager to come and stay with Georgiana at any time.
Then the whole group went away on a little warm breeze of
good-fellowship and human kindness.

"They are dears," admitted Georgiana, as she waved her arm at the
departing car; "but, oh!--oh! I can't stand having them sorry for me!
The old manse is shabby, and every girl of them knew how many times
this frock has been made over--I saw Celia recognize it even through its
dye. No wonder, when it's been at every college tea she ever gave. But
I won't--I won't--be pitied!"
The door opened, and a slender figure in an old-fashioned
dressing-gown came slowly into the firelit room.
Georgiana turned quickly. "Father Davy! Do you feel better? If I'd
known it, I'd have brought you in to meet the girls. They would have
enjoyed you so."
"I'm not quite up to meeting the girls perhaps, daughter, but decidedly
better and correspondingly cheerful. Have you had a good time?"
He placed himself as carefully as possible upon the couch by the fire,
and his daughter tucked him up in an old plaid shawl which had lain
folded upon it. She dropped upon the hearthrug and sat looking into the
fire, while her father regarded the picture she made in the dyed frock,
now a soft Indian red, a hue which pleased his eye and brought out all
her gypsy colouring.
The head upon the couch pillow was topped with a soft mass of curly
gray hair, the face below was thin and pale, but the eyes which rested
upon the girl were the clearest, youngest blue-gray eyes that ever spoke
mutely of the spirit's triumph over the body. One had but to glance at
David Warne to understand that here was a man who was no less a man
because he had to spend many hours of every day upon his tortured
back. It was three years since he had been forced to lay aside the care
of the village-and-country parish of which he had been minister, but he
had given up not a whit of his interest in his fellowmen, and now that
he could seldom go to them he had taught them to come to him, so that
the old manse was almost as much a centre of the village's