CHAPTER III

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"HERE are the letters, mamma," said Kitty, who had run down to the Post-office before breakfast, and now came in with glowing cheeks and full hands. "See what a quantity! Three French and two English letters, and two others, besides all the papers. Will you please see if my three dollars has come, mamma?"

"Yes, there it is," said Mrs. Tremain, handing Kitty the bright new note; "and here is the money I owe you—sixty cents. I may as well give it to you now that I have the exact change. Take care you do not lose it!"

"You had better put it away in your desk till you want to use it," said Cousin Tilly, as Kitty took out her purse. "If you carry it in your pocket, it will be gone before you know it."

"That is always the way," thought Kitty, as she put her purse in her pocket. "They think I am an out-and-out fool. I do wonder what it is they are hiding from me that the Daskins know. I mean to make Fanny tell me to-day."

"No, I am not going to tell you either," said Fanny. "You don't tell me your secrets, and I don't see why I should tell you mine. I know that you are getting up something for Christmas, and you will not tell me any thing about it."

"How do you know?" asked Kitty.

"I heard you and Miss Oliver talking about it one day when I was in the dressing-room. Of course you can do as you please about telling me. But what I say is that you can't expect me to tell you my secrets while you keep yours to yourself."

"It is no great secret," said Kitty.

"Great or small doesn't matter. If it is such a small affair, I don't see any use in being so very private about it."

My reader can very easily guess how the matter ended. Kitty was drawn on to tell the whole story of her proposed Christmas entertainment.

"I am sure you are very good to go to so much trouble for those little French young ones," said Fanny. "I can't help being jealous sometimes when I see you so engaged about them. But how much money are you going to spend on your Christmas tree?"

"Three dollars and sixty cents."

"Is that all your mother gives you of your property?" asked Fanny, in a tone of great surprise. "Only three dollars at a time!"

"That is all there is," replied Kitty. "It is only a hundred dollars, you know, and that at six per cent is—"

"I was not thinking of that paltry hundred dollars Mrs. Leffington gave you," interrupted Fanny. "I was thinking of your own property—the two hundred thousand dollars your grandfather left you, and which you are to have when you are eighteen. Did nobody ever tell you about that?"

"Nonsense!"

"No nonsense at all. My father knows all about it." And here Fanny went into many particulars, some of which she had heard from her father, while others were made up on the spur of the moment. "You see it was two hundred thousand dollars at first, but it must be a great deal more by this time, if the interest has been added every year. You must have as much as twenty thousand a year of your own, besides your mother's property. That is the reason I was surprised that Mrs. Tremain gave you so little to spend on your Christmas tree. Three dollars does not seem to be much beside twenty thousand: does it?"

It certainly did not. Kitty's three dollars, which had looked so large in the morning, now seemed very contemptible indeed.

"If your mother would give you thirty, or even twenty, dollars, you might give each of them a handsome present," continued Fanny, "but I don't see very well what you can buy for twenty-five cents. I should be afraid they would only laugh at you."

"I don't see why mother never told me any thing about it," said Kitty, in a very discontented tone. "And what is the use of our living so economically when we are so rich? We might just as well as not live in New York, and have a handsome house and horses and carriages, as Aunt Baldwin does."

"I suppose your mother means to teach you to be very economical," said Fanny, "though I must say I don't think she need be so very close. But then, you see, the money is not hers, but yours. However, I don't want to set you against your mother. Father says it was her closeness and extra economy that drove your father to do what he did, but then he does not like your mother, and he was very fond of your father—so he naturally takes sides with his friend. But I do wish Mrs. Tremain would give you a little more money to spend on this affair. I am really afraid you will make yourself ridiculous, and be laughed at."

Now, being made to appear ridiculous was the thing which Kitty dreaded above all others. She took out her purse and looked at her money.

"It does seem a little bit to be sure, but mamma said I must not ask her for any more, so I must make it answer as well as I can. Have you learned your Sunday-school lesson, Fanny? Do you want me to help you?"

"No!" replied Fanny, shaking her head. "I cannot go to Sunday-school any more. My bonnet is shabby. I am quite ashamed of it. You think three dollars a little money, Kitty; and so it is to you, who could have thousands to spend if you had your rights. But it would be a good deal to me just now, I can tell you. It makes all the difference between my going to Sunday-school and staying at home!"

"Your bonnet is no more shabby than it was last Sunday, and I thought it looked nicely then, I am sure!"

"Yes, it is because I got caught in the rain going home. It does not look fit to wear: and I am not going to Sunday-school to be despised, I can tell you! Oh, Kitty, if you would only lend me that money, just till next week!"

"But why does not your father buy you a new hat?" asked Kitty.

"Because he does not like to have me go to church and Sunday-school," replied Fanny. "I asked him, and he said if I wanted to try the pious dodge, I must ask you or some of my pious friends to help me, and not come to him. He said now was the time for you to show whether you meant what you said or not. And, Kitty, I do think so too! If you can't lend me three dollars out of all your wealth, to help me to go to Sunday-school, I certainly can't think you are very sincere in wishing me to become a Christian."

"You see, Fanny, I have only this money, little as it is, to make my Christmas tree with!" said Kitty, hesitating, and partly feeling, despite Fanny's earnestness, that she was being imposed upon.

"I don't believe but that your mother will give you more if you ask her in earnest," said Fanny.

"Mamma always does as she says, in the first place," replied Kitty. "I should not like to ask her for more."

"Well, I must say it is very queer in her, that is all. But how strange that you should never know you were such an heiress! I don't believe your uncle Baldwin is nearly so rich."

"Uncle Baldwin is very rich, I know, and so is his brother who lives in Paris. They have such a grand house, Fanny, and such a tall Swiss porter—taller than your father!"

"I dare say 'their' daughter don't wear an old plaid woollen dress to school!" said Fanny, casting a disdainful glance at her frock, which was certainly the worse for wear.

"No, she wears a dark gray frock, and a white apron," said Kitty. "That is the uniform of the school at which she is being educated. School-girls dress very plainly in France!"

"Well, but about this money, Kitty. Don't you mean to lend it to me? I will pay you by the middle of next week; and I tell you plainly that I will never go to church or to Sunday-school again unless you do."

"But why can't you wait till then for your bonnet?" asked Kitty.

"Because I can't, and won't!" returned Fanny, passionately. And then, a little more quietly: "You see, Kitty, I can get money from my father for some things though not for others; and if he knew that I borrowed the money from you, he would give me the means to repay it. I will certainly let you have it the middle of next week. Come, Kitty, don't be stingy for the first time in your life, just as you have found out how rich you are! What is three dollars to thirty thousand?"

"But, Fanny, how do you know that I have so much?"

"Because father told me. He knew all about your father's business! Come, Kitty, I particularly want to go church and Sunday-school next Sunday, because father and mother are going to have company all day: and you don't know how it is at our house at such times. You are the only person in the world I can ask to do me such a favour, but you have always been my friend, and stuck to me in spite of every one."

Who can doubt the result! The money was transferred from Kitty's pocket to Fanny's, as many smaller sums had been before. The rest of the way home—the girls had walked the whole length of the village during their conversation—Fanny amused herself in telling of the beautiful things which she might buy if she only had thirty or forty dollars to spend instead of three, till she succeeded in making Kitty thoroughly discontented, and causing her to wish that she had never done any thing about the matter.

"But don't tell your mother what I have told you!" was Fanny's parting injunction. "And, above all, don't tell her that you lent me the money, at least not till I have paid it back. She would be angry, and very likely speak to my father about it, and then he would never let me pay it at all. Nothing makes him so angry as being dunned, and I am like him in that: I can't bear to be dunned."

"But you will be sure to pay me the first of the week, Fanny," said Kitty. "You know, though it is so little, it is all that I have for my Christmas tree!"

"Of course I shall! Good-night."

It was with a very discontented spirit that Kitty entered the house, and went straight up to her room—the room she had been admiring that very morning. How poor and mean it all looked to her now—not at all fit for the residence of a young lady with twenty thousand dollars a year! And yet it was a very pretty room. The floor was covered with bright India matting, and was further decorated by two soft, large Turkish carpet-rugs, as we should call them. The bedstead was a light iron one, and the spread curtains and table-cover were all of the same pretty pink-and-white chintz. There was a little old-fashioned writing-desk, surmounted by a bookcase well filled with volumes, both French and English. There were prints and pictures on the walls, and on a bracket in the corner stood Kitty's chief treasure, a little gilded French clock, which struck the half hours and the quarters, and played a tune at the hour.

To my mind, however, the chief beauty of the room was the splendid view from the windows. The house stood high, and from the upper room on the south side you could see clear across the valley to the North Rock—an immense boulder which crowned the high hill on the other side. You could trace the course of the clear little river as it wound from side to side of the pleasant and fertile valley, and see every one of the many bridges which covered it.

Aunt Baldwin would gladly have given all the fine furniture in her bed-room and dressing-room in New York to have such a view before her windows. To-day, however, this pleasant prospect had no charms for Kitty's eyes, as she looked at it out of her window.

"How stupid to have nothing to look at but trees, and cows, and rocks!" was her only thought. "If I had my rights, I might be living on Fifth Avenue."

"Kitty, are you here?" said Cousin Tilly, opening the door. "You came in so quietly that I did not hear you. Your mother has gone up to Mrs. Parmelee's to visit some of the ladies and talk about clothing up the poor children. She said you might come too, if you liked. They are going to stay to tea!"

"I don't want to!" answered Kitty pettishly: "I would rather stay at home."

"Well, I am surprised at that!" said Cousin Tilly. "I thought you would like it above all things."

"I want to work on mother's cushion!" returned Kitty, seizing on the first excuse which presented itself. "I hardly ever get a chance, mother is away so seldom."

"There is something in that!" said Cousin Tilly. "Well, I will get you a nice supper, and you can have a good time working.

"I wish Tilly wouldn't be so familiar!" thought Kitty, as she gathered together her worsted and came down-stairs. "After all, she is nothing but a servant! I don't see why she does not keep her place and stay in the kitchen!"

Kitty's pattern was a new and very pretty one, which had been given her by her Aunt Baldwin, with the material for making it. It was an easy one, too, being already traced out on the canvas. But, somehow, every thing went wrong with it this night. At last Kitty threw it down, declaring she would not touch it again.

"What is the matter?" asked Cousin Tilly, in surprise, for such outbreaks were rare with Kitty. "Let me see it?"

"Do let it alone, can't you!" returned Kitty, snappishly. "You will get it all dirty, and then it will be spoiled entirely."

"Well, well!" said Cousin Tilly. "It seems to me somebody has come home in a bad humour."

Kitty, rather ashamed of herself, muttered some sort of apology, and taking up her cushion again, she worked for some time in silence. Then, complaining that it hurt her eyes, she put it away, and, curling herself up in her mother's great chair, she sat for some time looking into the fire.

"Cousin Tilly!" said she, suddenly. "How much property did my grandfather leave?"

"I don't know exactly," said Cousin Tilly, rather absently: "about two or three hundred thousand dollars, I guess."

"Who did he give it to?" asked Kitty.

"Really, Kitty, I don't know much about it. I know he provided well for his children, and left your mother twelve thousand dollars of her own. I have heard say it was an odd sort of will, but I never inquired into

## particulars. What set you to thinking of your grandfather's will?"

"I was looking at his picture!" said Kitty, blushing a little at the fib. Then, after a short silence, "I wish we were well off."

"Why, I think we 'are' pretty well off, Kitty: don't you?"

"No!" said Kitty, pettishly. "I don't call any one well off who has to save and scrimp as we do. If you had lived with us in Paris, Cousin Tilly, you would not think we were well off now. When papa wanted any thing, he just went and got it: he did not stop to reckon up the cost, as mamma does."

"I dare say not," said Cousin Tilly, drily. "Perhaps if he had counted the cost a little oftener, there would be some to spend in these days."

"I don't believe my papa was the worst man that ever lived," said Kitty.

"Nobody said that he was!" returned Cousin Tilly, and then there was another silence.

"I don't care!" exclaimed Kitty, breaking out again. "I think mother might let me have more money to spend on my Christmas tree. What is three dollars to divide among ten children?"

"I thought you had got it all planned out very nicely!" said Cousin Tilly. "I am sure I was quite surprised at your ingenuity."

"It is just the contriving that I hate," said Kitty. "If I had twenty or thirty dollars to spend there would be some fun in it. I think mother might let me have as much."

"You know what she said about that."

"Of course I do, and I shall not ask her, but I do wish she was not quite so close."

"Your mother is not close," answered Cousin Tilly. "She is the most liberal woman I know, according to her means. You ought to be ashamed to think of such a thing, Kitty."

Kitty made no answer, except to toss her head.

"You felt very rich over your three dollars this morning!" continued Cousin Tilly. "What has come over you? Has Fanny Daskin been talking to you again?"

"Oh, Cousin Tilly! To hear you and mother talk, one would think Fanny Daskin was a witch and I her slave. I have a mind of my own, I am thankful to say!"

"I am glad if you have, but it does not seem to be a mind to be thankful for just at present!" said Cousin Tilly, significantly. "I advise you to change it before your mother comes home."

Kitty tossed up her head again, but said no more till her mother's return.

"Why did not you come down to the parsonage, my dear," asked Mrs. Tremain. "The girls were very much disappointed."

"I don't see why they should be disappointed," said Kitty. "I never said I was coming."

"Well, sorry then," said Mrs. Tremain, smiling. "You are very critical to-night. Why did you not come?"

"I had something I wanted to do at home, mamma," replied Kitty.

"Kitty seems out of sorts," said Cousin Tilly. "I don't believe she feels very well."

"There is nothing the matter with me, except that I am tired," said Kitty. "I should like to go to bed, mother, please."

But Kitty did not go to bed for a long time. She sat by her table looking in the glass, and thinking what she would have and what she would wear if only she had the twenty thousand a year which was her right. Startled at last by her candle burning out, she hastily slipped off her clothes and jumped into bed, never remembering till she had lain down that she had not said her prayers.

"It is not worth while to get up again," thought Kitty. "I cannot see to read my verses, and I can say my prayers just as well where I am." But before ten words were said, Kitty was fast asleep.

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