Keith and the Little Colonel were cutting tinsel into various
lengths for Virginia to tie into fringe for a gay banner. Malcolm was
gilding some old spurs, Mrs. Maclntyre sat stringing yards of wax beads,
that gleamed softly in the lamplight like great rope of pearls, and Mrs.
Sherman was painting the posters, which were to be put up in the
post-office and depot as advertisements of the Jonesy Benefit.
Miss Allison, who had been busy for hours with pasteboard and glue,
tin-foil and scissors, held up the suit of mail which she had
just finished.
"Isn't that fine!" cried Malcolm. "It looks exactly like some of the
armour we saw in the Tower of London, doesn't it, Keith?"
"I've thought of a riddle!" exclaimed Virginia. "Why is Aunt Allison's
head like Aladdin's lamp?"
"'Cause it's so bright?" ventured Malcolm.
"No; because she has only to rub it, and everything she thinks of
appears. I don't see how it is possible to make so many beautiful things
out of almost nothing."
Virginia looked admiringly around at all the pretty articles scattered
over the room. A helmet with nodding white plumes lay on the piano. A
queen's robe trailed its royal ermine beside it. A sword with a jewelled
hilt shone on the mantel, and a dozen dazzling shields were ranged in
various places on the low bookshelves.
It was easy, in the midst of such surroundings, for the children to
imagine themselves back in the days of King Arthur and his court, while
Miss Bond sat there telling them such beautiful tales of its fair ladies
and noble knights.
Pages:
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74