Left to Ourselves Part 17

"Holloa, Tom!" he said.

"I've nothing to do to-day," said the other; "and you said you'd go for a walk."

"You're remarkably early, or else we're remarkably late."

"Don't you want to go?"

"Oh, yes; but I'm busy just this minute."

"Not done breakfast?" asked Tom, grinning.

"You're wrong there! Look here, Tom, I'll call for you in half an hour, will that do?"

"All right."

So the front door opened and closed, and Hugh came back.

"What did he want?" asked Alice.

"To go for a walk."

"On Christmas-day? How funny."

"Not funny that I know of."

"Did you ask him to?" said Minnie.

"Yes--no--at least he said something about it when I met him yesterday."

"I should have said I couldn't," said Alice decidedly; "but never mind now, Hugh, let's open our things."

They gathered round the table, and soon had forgotten all about Tom in their interest in the presents their mother and father had prepared for them.

A beautiful work-basket for Agnes; a book for John; a new paint-box for Hugh; a desk, fitted-up, for Alice; and a long-shaped box for Minnie, on which was written, "Care--great care--little Minnie."

"What can it be?" exclaimed the child, peeping round it, and enjoying her antic.i.p.ations.

And then John untied the string and raised the cover, while Minnie's little fingers tenderly lifted some tissue-paper, and disclosed to view a baby-doll of surpa.s.sing loveliness.

Agnes and the rest admired and exclaimed to the heart's content of the little mother, and then She took her doll away to show it to the servants.

Just then Hugh discovered that the half hour was nearly over, and started up.

"Are you not coming to church?" asked Alice.

Hugh stopped short for a moment, "Are you?" he asked.

"Yes, we are going with Aunt Phyllis."

"But I can't get out of this, Agnes, and father wouldn't mind?"

"No; he thinks Christmas-day is not like Sunday, and we need not feel bound about going to G.o.d's house as we are then; but for my own part I should like to."

"So should I," said Alice.

"Is John going?" asked Hugh, looking crest-fallen and vexed.

"Yes; I don't know that I had intended it though, for I look upon Christmas-day as a blessed holiday, but I've other reasons."

"Then you think I can go with Tom?"

"As far as that is concerned," said John; "but I should hardly think Tom was a nice companion for you."

"Why not?" exclaimed Hugh, turning red.

"There are several things about him that are not satisfactory, and I should not like him for my friend."

"He is not 'my friend' exactly; but that's always the way with you, John, you despise other people."

"I'm sure I don't; but I've always told you. Hugh, that that boy's a humbug."

"How do you know he is?" Hugh answered angrily.

"He never looks you in the face for one thing."

"Nonsense. Did ever you hear such an absurd thing, Agnes, to judge by a fellow's looks?"

"Then he does not go with the good set at school, you can't say he does," pursued John.

"He goes with me, and I should like you to tell me I belong to the bad set."

"You will if you go on with him," John answered quickly; and then he saw Agnes move suddenly and raise her eyes from the table, where they had been fixed during the altercation.

One flash of thought, one glance at his sister, and then John stood still with firmly-closed lips.

Agnes felt deeply thankful, but she said not a word.

"Have you anything more to say?" asked Hugh bitterly, "or have you exhausted all your powers in that last effort?"

John was still silent, but an earnest supplication went up that he might know his Lord's will and do it.

"Eh?" exclaimed Hugh, coming close to him and speaking to him in hot anger.

"I was thinking, Hugh," answered John slowly, "wondering whether I had been unkind in what I said, or right in warning you?"

"Warning me! If you had had a grain of sense in your body, you'd have warned me in private, and not before a pack of girls."

"Yes," answered John, hesitating a little, "I think I ought not--not like that, but it never occurred to me; we got into it before I knew."