"I think it's a shame. She needs it too badly to give it up for that
child's whim."
"No, daughter," answered Mrs. Marshall, gently. "In a country
neighbourhood like this it matters little whether I wear my clothes
one year or seven: and it is not a mere whim with Johnny. He wants
that rifle more than he ever wanted anything in his life before. I
think the quilt money would be a good investment. The work will teach
him patience and neatness, and above all keep him quiet in the
evenings. Since your father has been so worried over his business, he
needs all the relaxation possible at home, he enjoys reading aloud in
the evenings, and Johnny's fidgeting annoys him. A ten-year-old boy is
all wriggle and racket without something to occupy him."
She did not say it aloud, but, as she cut out the gay patchwork, she
thought, with a warm glow of heart, of another reason for the
investment. The quilt would be such a precious reminder of Johnny's
boyhood some day, when he had put away childish things. Every stitch
would be dear to her, because of the little stubby fingers that worked
so patiently to set them, despite the needle pricks and knotted
thread.
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