"Yes, I'll try my experiment; then I'll get
rich; found a home for girls like myself; or, better still, be a
Mrs. Fry, a Florence Nightingale, or"--
"How are you on't for stockin's, dear?"
Christie's castles in the air vanished at the prosaic question; but,
after a blank look, she answered pleasantly:
"Thank you for bringing me down to my feet again, when I was soaring
away too far and too fast. I'm poorly off, ma'am; but if you are
knitting these for me, I shall certainly start on a firm
foundation." And, leaning on Aunt Betsey's knee, she patiently
discussed the wardrobe question from hose to head-gear.
"Don't you think you could be contented any way, Christie, ef I make
the work lighter, and leave you more time for your books and
things?" asked the old lady, loth to lose the one youthful element
in her quiet life.
"No, ma'am, for I can't find what I want here," was the decided
answer.
"What do you want, child?"
"Look in the fire, and I'll try to show you."
The old lady obediently turned her spectacles that way; and Christie
said in a tone half serious, half playful:
"Do you see those two logs? Well that one smouldering dismally away
in the corner is what my life is now; the other blazing and singing
is what I want my life to be.
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