"More," answered Christie, smiling too, as she remembered the old
quarrels. "I shall earn the money, sir. If the garden fails I can
teach, nurse, sew, write, cook even, for I've half a dozen useful
accomplishments at my fingers' ends, thanks to the education you and
dear Aunt Betsey gave me, and I may have to use them all for Pansy's
sake."
Pleased by the compliment, yet a little conscience-stricken at the
small share he deserved of it, Uncle Enos sat rubbing up his glasses
a minute, before he led to the subject he had in his mind.
"Ef you fall sick or die, what then?"
"I've thought of that," and Christie caught up the child as if her
love could keep even death at bay. But Pansy soon struggled down
again, for the dirty-faced doll was taking a walk and could not be
detained. "If I am taken from her, then my little girl must do as
her mother did. God has orphans in His special care, and He won't
forget her I am sure."
Uncle Enos had a coughing spell just then; and, when he got over it,
he said with an effort, for even to talk of giving away his
substance cost him a pang:
"I'm gettin' into years now, and it's about time I fixed up matters
in case I'm took suddin'. I always meant to give you a little
suthing, but as you didn't ask for't, I took good care on 't, and it
ain't none the worse for waitin' a spell.
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