I tell you what, Mrs. Armstrong, I go as near to hating him as I can hate any one; and yet, poor soul, he does me no harm. I think I'll set him up with Peter Squires; but we cannot spare him yet. We have not made, what I think, enough money yet. I shall remember the museum; and, perhaps, I may bring Archy Campbell with me."
"And Jasper Merry," said Rona. "And Alfred Gray," said Ida. "Yes, yes, dears; I'll bring them all; and so, good night—good night; and write me such a pretty letter every day; and who knows what I'll do when Christmas comes?"
Christmas was indeed a day with the whole family of Martin Barton. First, there was the great long counter, covered with squares of table-cloths, before each clerk's stand; and then, there was the hall table, for the servants; and, lastly, there was the parlour, next door—literally full of presents for the children, Mrs. Martin Barton's two twins; and there were the little baskets for the poor customers—I suspect they did not pay much for needle and thread. Jenny Hart had arranged every thing herself; and there she stood in the shop, at sunrise, having given them all an early breakfast. With a little white wand in her hand, she pointed to a table that stood out from the corner, and said—
"Hosea Bringle—our oldest and our best clerk—lift up the table cover; Martin Barton hopes you will be pleased with what is under."
Old Hosea, who had not been in the shop for a long time, lifted up the cover—"Oh, Jenny Hart, how kind; how excellent all these things are; and I was wishing for this box of tools, and all this fine wire; (just as if Jenny Hart did not know his wants) and here is fine perfumed soap, and every thing an old man wants; and, ah ha, Miss Jenny Hart, you have found out I have a sweet tooth, have you? (Jenny Hart had furnished him with confectionary for twelve years,) and what's this?
