She had wandered into "Cork" and the
three O'Neills surrounded her, staring.
"I beg your pardon--I heard you--and it was so like home the day before
Christmas--"
"Did you hear the heathen rage?" cried Katherine.
"Dolls for Aunt Anne's mission," explained Constance.
"You're so forehanded that all your presents went a week ago, I
suppose," Eleanor swept clear a chair. "The clan O'Neill is never
forehanded."
"You'd think I was from the number of thumbs I've grown this morning.
Oh, misery!" Eleanor jerked a snarl of thread out on the floor.
Betty had never cared for "Cork" but now the hot worried faces of its
girls appealed to her. "Let me help. I'm a regular silkworm."
The O'Neills assented with eagerness, and Betty began to sew in a
capable, swift way that made the others stare and sigh with relief.
The dolls were many, the O'Neills slow. Betty worked till her feet
twitched on the floor; yet she enjoyed the morning, for it held an
entirely new sensation, that of helping some one else get ready for
Christmas.
"Done!"
"We never should have finished if you hadn't helped! Thank you, Betty
Luther, very, VERY much! You're a duck! Let's run to luncheon together,
quick."
Somehow the big corridors did not seem half so bleak echoing to those
warm O'Neill voices.
"This morning's just spun by, but, oh, this long, dreary afternoon!"
sighed Betty, as she wandered into the library.
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